The Inclement Weather
by Lettuce
Summary: After a series of unremarkable run-ins with her former Potions master, Hermione invites him into her home, but to what cost?
1. Chapter 1

_AN:_ _I promised myself I wouldn't publish anything without it being finished after the time it took for me to finish 'What I Desire', but this one has gotten away from me and I don't want to leave it until it becomes difficult to proofread._

 _As always, I don't have a beta reader so my mistakes are my own._

 _All characters are the property of JKR and I thank her for allowing us to play with them._

 _HG_

Hermione was sitting at her desk thinking about him yet again, when she looked back far enough it was difficult to discern when it began.

It may have been at the Ministry's third annual Victory Ball, when she'd danced with him almost by accident. She'd been thrust in his direction by Minerva and had been unsure as to whether he would have preferred her to refuse. She reflected that he must be too much the gentleman to have turned her away; he'd held her stiffly as he moved them across the dance floor for just a few minutes, until Ronald Weasley had interfered and taken her hand.

She should have hexed Ron for his interruption.

"You're welcome!" Ron had smiled brightly. "I don't know why McGonagall thought it was a good idea to push you into dancing with the Dungeon Bat."

"You shouldn't be so disrespectful, he's a war hero," she had whispered, afraid that he might over hear their conversation.

Ron responded with a shrug as they made their second turn around the floor. "More like an accidental hero. It isn't like he actually gave a shit about anyone other than Harry's mum."

What could she say to that? He was probably right; everything Severus Snape had ever done to defeat Tom Riddle had been done with Lily Potter on his mind. That simple fact, however, did nothing to detract from his bravery in her eyes; no matter his motivation, he had still placed himself in mortal danger for years and very nearly paid the price with his very life.

Even after they had left the dance floor and Ron gone to the bar to get them both a drink, she could still smell the echo of Severus Snape's sandalwood shaving balm. Never mind the fact that she'd spent the whole of their brief liaison staring at the black buttons of his dress robes in complete silence.

But it couldn't have been then, could it? She had barely given him a moment's thought after that evening; in fact, she hadn't seen him until several months later when they'd attended the same drinks reception at St Mungo's and she had taken the last sausage roll from the lunch buffet.

"One might think they'd provide more than a few soggy sandwiches and a handful of sausage rolls at a lunch meeting of more than twenty people," he had complained. He probably hadn't been talking to her, rather voicing his irritation aloud to himself. Truthfully, she hadn't realised who had been standing next to her until she had heard him speak and his rather angry words flowed silkily past his thin lips.

"Sorry," she'd replied. "You can have some of mine if you like?"

Of course, he'd looked down his nose at her disdainfully, one eyebrow raised as if he were questioning her very sanity. "Why, in Merlin's name, would you think I would wish to remove food from your plate, Miss Granger? Allow me to assure you that nothing on offer here would induce me in to such behaviour."

"Sorry." She looked down at the cheese and tomato sandwiches, the devilled egg, a few crisps and the three miniature sausage rolls heaped upon her plate and found she had lost her appetite.

"You need not be sorry, it isn't of your making now, is it?"

"I was empathising rather than sympathising." Hermione replied matter-of-factly before she plucked a crisp from her plate and popped it in to her mouth.

"How very like you." He drew himself up and stalked away.

What did he mean by that? She stared after him.

The next time they crossed paths was in the Ministry's atrium as she made her way to the Floo Hall on her way home. She had spent all day at a tediously boring personal development seminar and had thought she's caught sight of Charlie Weasley amongst the crowd. If she were honest she probably _had_ jostled a few other people in her haste to ascertain whether the stranger really had been Charlie.

"Do you mind, madam!" he had snapped.

Hermione bent down to retrieve her folder from the floor, where it landed, having fallen from her hand after her was progress impeded by a rather solid object. Even after he had reprimanded her, she still had not registered said object was a rather angry Severus Snape.

Lifting the folder and pushing the parchments back into place securely, she allowed herself to glance up and found her gaze slowly travel along the black-clad pillar and in to the eyes of her former professor.

"I believe common etiquette dictates that one usually apologises in such circumstances," he hissed down at her as their eyes met. "Or am I mistaken?"

She briefly wondered whether he meant it as a rhetorical question, or if he expected an answer. His unrelenting stare seemed to pierce and suggested the latter.

"Sorry."

She watched as he sighed deeply, lifted his glare away from her and scanned the crowd. "See that you pay more attention to your surroundings in future, Miss Granger."

He glanced back down and appeared to take one last scathing look at her before striding away and disappearing in to the crowd.

No, it certainly couldn't have been then.

Perhaps it was last spring in Madam Malkin's? Hermione had popped in for a new set of day robes and had found him about to purchase a beautiful plum coloured travelling cloak.

"I am sure the lady will be very pleased with your purchase." Madam Malkin had commented as Snape had opened his coin purse and counted out the correct number of Galleons.

Hermione hadn't given the encounter much thought until the following Monday when she had opened her copy of the Prophet and seen Felicity Lockwood, from the Minister's office, wearing that same plum coloured cloak elegantly across her shoulder. Never one to jump to conclusions, she would have considered it nothing more than an odd coincidence had the scene not played out and concluded with one, Severus Snape, placing his hand on the small of Felicity's back and moving to shield her from the camera.

It wasn't a secret that Snape was often out with pretty witches, but Hermione had never considered that he thought enough of any of them to be buying them expensive gifts. What was the point when he appeared so unlikely to commit. At the time she briefly wondered if this one would be different; perhaps he had developed a deeper relationship with Felicity Lockwood? Hermione had run her finger absently along handle of her tea mug and wondered why it seemed to matter.

Severus Snape had a well-deserved reputation for being aloof and cold, yet it didn't seem to affect his ability to attract members of the opposite sex. She frowned as she thought upon the man of her youth; the spy; the teacher; the bully. It was hard to imagine that man in this situation. Felicity Lockwood was reasonably well known for being seen on the arm of quidditch stars, which made her appearance with Snape all the stranger.

Severus Snape was intelligent, gifted, even. He worked for St Mungo's, developing potions and unguents for all manner of ailments. Rumour had it that he was close to revealing that he had discovered an absolute cure for Spattergroit.

It must have been then, she reflected; from then on, she developed a habit of checking the newspaper for further news of Severus Snape and his exploits or discoveries. Unsurprisingly, she rarely found news of any consequence, save for the fact that he was rarely seen with the same witch more than three or four times. Even the beautiful Miss Lockwood had disappeared after no more than a few months and had seemingly been replaced.

Despite his more objectionable traits there _was_ something fascinating about this man. Had anyone thought to ask, she would have struggled to articulate why she felt so drawn to him. He was many things she found interesting: he was academic, he was articulate, he didn't waste his time on unimportant follies… and yet, he was also many things she found distasteful. As a child she had found him petty, spiteful and much too eager to revel in the humiliation of others.

Try as she might, Hermione hadn't really succeeded getting him to notice her at all. They had attended a few of the same Ministry functions, but his consideration always seemed to be directed elsewhere. The other problem of course was that he probably considered her as nothing more than an insufferable former student and probably wanted as little to do with her as humanly possible. It seemed as if all their interactions of late resulted in his scorn.

Several weeks ago, she had been representing, Fitzgerald Diggins, the Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at a meeting when Severus Snape and his gravitas had entered the room. It was almost amusing to see senior members of the Ministry falling over themselves to appease him as he complained of the bureaucracy of the Ministry, the lack of funding for his research, and the chronic shortage of dragon hearts.

"Miss Granger," he had turned to address her, "perhaps if your department could see to it to deregulate the importation of dragon-based products, I might actually be able to achieve my aims."

Never one to shy away, she put on her best professional overcoat, raised her chin, and refused to be intimidated. "The shortage isn't due to import regulations Mr Snape, as I am sure you are already aware, it is due to the lack of dragons being farmed for medicinal purposes. Raising dragons is no easy task."

He had glared at her pointedly which had the opposite affect from the one he was probably intending; she made a point of maintaining eye contact and refused to be cowed.

"If you wish I can contact some of my colleagues in Poland, Hungry and Romania, to see if they have any suppliers they can recommend," she had offered. "How many hearts are you looking to procure."

"At least a dozen."

The room erupted, first in a collective gasp, and then loud chatter as they asked each other why he would need so many.

"I am sure I could reach out and see what is available."

Snape raised an enquiring eyebrow; it appeared she had been challenged, and she had been ecstatic about it. At last! If there was something she knew how to do, it was to rise to a challenge.

Sadly, Hermione had heard nothing from him even after fourteen dragon hearts had been delivered to his laboratory, not even a 'thank you.' He did nod at her in acknowledgement last week when he'd taken the same lift together, but that wasn't exactly the kind of foundation upon which to build any kind of association.

"Hermione, I have the Walpole file, let me know if you need it." Her afternoon of musing was abruptly broken by Quentin Nettleton, her colleague. He was a tall and thin with short brown hair, parted exactly down the middle. His tortoiseshell framed spectacles were overly large, and Hermione often thought they gave him the appearance of an oversized mole.

"Thanks, I think I am probably finished with it." She placed her quill back in the inkwell.

"Oh, I meant to say to you, an owl dropped a letter off for you when you were at lunch, it's on top of the filing cabinet."

Secretly, she was a little irritated; Quentin had a habit of accepting her owls and leaving the notes laying around the office. "Thanks," was her diplomatic reply.

The missive was from Ron; Harry and Ginny were meeting Neville at The Iron Duke, a pub which was located just around the corner from the Ministry, tomorrow evening and would she like to join them. It had been a while since they had all gone out together, so she very was pleased to accept an invitation and avoid being alone on a Friday night.

HG

The two witches walked together, arms linked, with Harry and Ron following a step behind. "I wish you two would slow down, it isn't a race." Harry grumbled.

"I'm fed up with this stupid rain," Ginny commented, "Be a love and cast a waterproof charm, will you?"

They rounded the corner and soon arrived at their destination. "I'll get a table if you two get the drinks," Ginny suggested, eyeing a table at the back of the room.

Neville arrived ten minutes late, as usual; but having to travel all the way from Hogwarts did tend to make being on time somewhat more challenging. "So, how is everyone?" he asked before taking a sip of his pint.

"Much the same, I'm afraid," Hermione laughed. "Not much changes in my world unless you are prepared to complete twenty reams of parchment."

"That's the Ministry for you." Harry added.

"I might get a start next week," Ron said proudly. "Matt's wife is due any day now and he's bound to take some paternity leave."

Ron was backup keeper for the Puddlemere United and Matthew Worthington was their star player, which meant that Ron rarely, if ever, got to play.

"You'll do fantastically," Hermione encouraged. "Let me know if you're going to get a game, I'll come over and see you.

"Yeah," Ginny and Harry replied in unison. "We can make it a group outing!"

Ron grinned enthusiastically. "Thanks, guys!"

"Don't tell anyone," whispered Neville, "but I think I might have cultivated a formatogoria. It's still tiny, but I am hopeful this one will make it."

"Oh, my goodness!" exclaimed Hermione loudly before suddenly covering her mouth and looking over her shoulder, hoping she hadn't drawn attention to their table.

"I know," said Neville as he and Hermione shared a look.

"I haven't a clue what you're talking about." Ron lifted his pint glass and took a long swig.

"Probably for the best," said Hermione, eager to keep Neville's secret.

"It must be an 'in' thing for these two brainy types." Ginny laughed, prompting Neville to blush.

It was so nice to spend time with her friends, or it would have been, if she hadn't been totally and utterly distracted when Severus Snape walked into the establishment. He was accompanied by a rather handsome wizard with a neatly trimmed beard and a kind, smiling, face. Hermione almost laughed as she considered this man to be the antithesis of his taller, considerably darker, friend.

"What are you…" Harry began to ask before turning on his stool and following Hermione's gaze. "Oh, it's just Snape."

The pub was almost full, and it seemed as if everyone had paused their conversation to turn and stare at Snape as he approached the bar. Once it became clear he was going to do nothing more interesting than order a couple of pints, the pub chatter continued.

"I wonder who that is with him," asked Ginny.

"Yeah, I bet," Hermione teased. "Hands off, you're married."

"I am here you know!" said Harry, pointing to himself as if to emphasise the point.

"Well, I'm very single, if I want to ogle, I will," sighed Hermione, before eyeing the pair at the bar over the top of her wine glass. Ogle had probably been too strong a word, she reflected as she turned her attention back to her glass, rocking the crimson liquid in a circular motion.

"I don't see what the big deal is," commented Ron as he looked over his shoulder at Snape's back, "it's just that Greasy Git and some bloke."

"Shh, he'll hear you," said Neville, nervously.

"Who cares," grumbled Ron.

"I think I've seen him before, he looks familiar," said Harry, staring at the mystery wizard's back, but didn't expand on the thought.

Try as she might Hermione couldn't help but allow her eyes to follow Snape as he moved from the bar to a table which, thankfully, was within her line of sight. Unfortunately, it wasn't long before he had invited two witches to sit at his table and she had the misfortune of watching them flirt outrageously with him. They may as well have held up a huge neon sign which read: "Take me to bed."

"I'll be back in moment," said Hermione, desperate to visit the loo, pull herself together and collect her thoughts.

"Me too," added Ginny, following her to the back to the room looking for the sign which read, 'Witches'.

"What are you doing, Hermione?" asked Ginny as they washed their hands at the long trough-like sink.

"What do you mean?"

Ginny looked at the row of cubicles, checking to see if they were empty. "I mean the way you are staring at Snape's table.

Hermione felt heat travel up her body as she felt herself blush furiously. "I, um, I don't know what you're talking about."

Ginny laughed. "Okay, whatever you say."

"Don't you find it odd that Professor Snape has turned out to be such a rake?" Hermione asked abruptly, cutting through the awkward silence as she moved to dry her hands.

"I suppose," Ginny nodded, "but I guess after spending twenty years risking his life and then being at death's door… the poor guy deserves to let off a bit of steam. Then of course there is all that business with Harry's mum."

"I guess." Ginny's observations did make some sense, even if she wasn't sure if she agreed.

Ginny looked at her curiously. "Does his behaviour bother you?"

 _Interesting question_ , Hermione thought; true, she wasn't particularly overjoyed with the idea that he appeared to be working his way through the most beautiful witches in London, but whether that was because she felt his behaviour was immoral, or whether it was because she was… jealous, she couldn't be certain. "He was always so buttoned up, I suppose it just seems strange to me that he would…" she struggled for the right word.

"Unbutton?" offered Ginny.

They look at each other and laughed. "I'm going to get another drink; would you like another glass of wine?" asked Hermione as she opened the door back towards the bar.

"Yes, please," replied Ginny, before heading back to their table.

Hermione approached the bar and did her best to catch the eye of the busy barman as he levitated pint glasses and activated the various beer pumps. She made a deliberate show of placing her gallons on the bar, hoping it would expedite the service.

"Well, well, Miss Granger," came a sardonic drawl from just behind her left shoulder. She couldn't help but be affected by the way he seemed to caress her last name, it was out of character and disconcerting. Momentarily she wondered if he was drunk. "I am most surprised to see to you frequenting such an establishment."

Hermione felt rather put out by his statement and tone. Was he suggesting that she thought herself above a visit to a pub? She straightened and turn to face him, ready to defend herself.

Apparently, she was very easy to read because his reaction was a knowing laugh, which he didn't even attempt to disguise.

"Might I ask what you find so amusing?" she asked, irritably.

"You, Miss Granger _. Just_ _you_."

The inflection on the last few syllables of his statement may just as well have been formed of fiendfyre for all the ire they stirred up within her chest. He chuckled again and dismissively said. "Climb down from upon your high horse, Miss Granger," and gestured to the barman that he would like to order another round of drinks. "And whatever the lady here is having."

"I don't need to you buy my drink, thank you." Hermione responded, crisply. "I am quite capable of purchasing my own."

Two pints of beer and three glasses of wine came floating towards them, one breaking away from the group and situating itself in front of Hermione. "I wouldn't dream of assuming otherwise, Miss Granger." Snape promptly paid the barman, nodded to Hermione and made for his party, drinks in hand.

"Bloody arse," she whispered under her breath and headed back to her friends and sipping at her glass of wine which felt surprisingly tainted.

"You got my wine then," Ginny laughed while Hermione sent a scathing glace over to Snape's table. "Never mind, I can see you've other things on your mind."

"If he said anything horrible to you, I'll go and sort him out," Ron announced.

Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes. "You can put away the false bravado, Ron, I don't need protecting, thank you."

"As if you'd even stand a chance in a duel with Snape," Ginny laughed at her brother.

"I could take him," replied Ron, indignantly, sitting up a little straighter.

"Listen to your sister, mate." Harry advised with a smile. "When was the last time you raised your wand to duel?"

Ron set his pint down angrily. "I can handle myself!"

"Settle down, people are staring," Ginny cautioned.

Hermione glanced across to Snape's table and found herself making eye contact with the man in question almost immediately. Unsure what else she should do she made an apologetic shrug to which he replied with a questioning eyebrow.

"The good news is that Gryffindor are on track to win the house cup this year," Neville offered, presumably hoping to change the subject to one they could all agree.

"Any decent seventh year players on any of the teams this year?" asked Ron.

Hermione glanced over at Harry who smiled as they shared a knowing look. Ron was always so easy to distract with quidditch. Whether Neville had intentionally changed the subject, she didn't know, but she _did_ know she wasn't comfortable openly discussing Snape when he was in such close proximity.

HG

She could hear the echo of her moderate heels tapping on the tiled floor of the atrium as she headed for the Ministry's Floo Hall and thereafter her home. After four large glasses of wine she didn't trust herself to _Apparate_ home all in one piece, despite not feeling particularly affected by the alcohol – it was best to be cautious when the alternative was leaving a limb behind.

It was as she was reaching for the Floo powder that she heard him speak.

"Good evening, Miss Granger."

Hermione turned abruptly in surprise, spilling a small amount of powder on the floor in the process, creating a little cloud of green dust at her feet.

"Mr Snape," she acknowledged. "If I didn't know better I would think you were following me." Although she teased she briefly indulged the thought that perhaps he _had_ sought her attention.

He replied with a dismissive, albeit subtle, roll of his eyes. "If that was an attempt to bait me, you should know you perform poorly."

He was maddening. Nothing she said seemed to discomfort him in the slightest; it was if he was prepared for every rebuke and remark. Perhaps twenty years of teaching teenagers had honed such a skill she thought before she noticed that he was alone. "Where are your companions?" It had been her assumption that he wouldn't be returning home on his own tonight.

He took a few steps towards her which immediately made her feel self-conscious though she wasn't sure exactly why.

"I expect they are returning home, as most people are at this time of night." As if to emphasise his point, he produced his pocket-watch and appeared to check the time.

"And you are too... going home?" Hermione caught sight of his ruby red waistcoat and almost laughed at the absurdity of this man in such a bold colour – her teenage self would never have believed him capable.

"Naturally." He looked at her oddly, perhaps it was disbelief at was, even by her own admission, a rather inane question.

Ever the gentleman he gestured at the Floo. "After you."

Hermione couldn't help but cast a suspicious glance in his direction before moving to take a fresh handful of power and stepping into the Floo.

"Before you depart, Miss Granger, I have been remiss, I must thank you for the delivery of dragon hearts," he paused for a moment as if considering his next words. "Additionally, I also thank you for the two extra specimens - ever the overachiever, aren't you?" Then he smirked; he smirked right at her, the very cheek of this man.

Before she knew herself, Hermione had stepped back out of the Floo and taken the few steps to stand in front of him. "Have I wronged you in some way, Mr Snape?" she asked in a ferocious whisper. "I have found, all too frequently in the past, that you do not care for my opinions. Yet, tonight it seems you are at great pains to gain my attention by making snide remarks and laughing in my face. I can only conclude I have offended you in some way."

Seemingly unaffected by her words and for the second time that night he had the temerity to laugh at her. "Not at all, Miss Granger." Snape shook his head. "It wasn't my intention to cause offence, I assure you."

"Well I guess there is a first time for everything then." Hermione eyed him suspiciously. "What is your intention then?"

"Do I need one?" He replied.

His reticence was madding, she decided to attack the hippogriff head-on. "Why are you here, irritating me, and not taking home one, or both, of your drinking companions?"

"I don't see why Barnaby would wish to accompany me home. We are no more than colleagues, I assure you."

There he was again, twisting her words. "That isn't what I meant," she snapped.

"I assumed as much; I have no doubt you were referring to our female companions this evening?"

Hermione refused to answer and instead fixed him with a glare of impatience, urging him to answer without having to be prompted.

He sighed. "I don't take home women just because we have shared an evening of conversation. I confess to being rather offended that you would assume such a thing as well as being mildly surprised, although not completely, that you would ask such a question. Is there no end to your lack of self-control or tact?"

"Oh, you're surprised, are you? You mean it isn't you on the front page of the newspaper every other week with some new trophy hanging off your arm? Have you run out of influential women? Are you having to settle for women you pick up in pubs?"

"Your grow very bold, Miss Granger," he hissed.

Oddly she felt elated at his reaction; finally, the façade was beginning to crack. There was something distinctly satisfying about verbal confrontation with this man.

"You of all people should know that not everything printed in that rag of newspaper should be taken at face-value."

"Perhaps not, but you can hardly deny it, can you?" Hermione took a step towards him and began counting on her fingers. "Felicity Lockwood, Melanie Stubbs, Claire Heatherington, Eloise van der Laan, Julia Smyth, Anna-"

"If you are quite finished!" Snape interrupted. "You know nothing of my association with any of those women and yet you consider yourself very well informed. One would almost think you were…" his expression turned to one of triumph before he finished, "jealous, Miss Granger." He unleashed an almost feral smile.

And there it was, his riposte.

Had she not spent the best part of the evening considering the very same thing, she might have been able to hide her momentary shock and the subsequent, and decidedly unwelcome, blush which followed. Hermione wished she were able to shrink into the Floo unnoticed as he gazed down at her without mercy.

"I am right, aren't?" Snape asked, his tone softening.

Before she was able gather her thoughts, she heard the rapid beat of footsteps against the tiled floor, not unlike the echo made by her own sensible heels. Hermione glanced over Snape's shoulder to see none other than Rita Skeeter headed in their direction, followed by a portly wizard clutching a camera.

"Urgh, bloody woman!" cried Hermione as she grabbed a handful of Floo powder for the third time that evening. "Follow me!" she whispered to Snape, in a moment of panic.

He must have heard her as she called out her destination as he appeared next to her only a matter of moments later. "That stupid cow will not leave me alone!"

"You think she is following you?" Snape asked.

"You don't think that?"

"Had you not just asked me about my many appearances of the front cover of her blasted newspaper? Has it not occurred to you that she could have been following me?"

"Yes, I suppose," she replied, dusting herself down. "Well, if I am to be named as your next conquest, you may as well come in for a cup of tea."

She thought it best not to wait for his reply; instead she stepped out of the Floo, walked confidently out the door of the public lavatory and up the steps to the pavement level. In the light rain, she began walking the fifty or so metres to her flat. If he followed her, perhaps she would have the opportunity to apologise, if not… well, it wasn't as if she would be losing a friend.

HG

"Milk, no sugar," Hermione handed him a mug of tea as he sat at the far end of her sofa. "I hope it's strong enough, I used two teabags." Unsure whether she should join him or sit in the solitary chair she opted for perching opposite him on the edge of her coffee table. He had removed his outer cloak, displaying his red waistcoat in all its glory.

"It looks fine, thank you," he replied, inspecting the liquid surface considerately.

"Look, I… ah, I want to apologise for making assumptions about you. It isn't my place and I'm sure you've had quite enough of people judging you and sticking their noses in where they don't belong. Believe me, I know I could do without it." Hermione looked down at her tea before taking a loud, slurping, sip and testing the temperature.

Snape gently shook his head, seemingly unfazed. "I am used to it, I find I can scarcely remember a time when I wasn't scrutinised. You would do well to learn to ignore it all." He was so calm.

"Yes, well, I might have to learn rather quickly I am sure we'll both be on the front page in the morning," she grimaced. "You'd think there would be more going on in the world than the sexual exploits of the couple of Ministry workers."

"Is that what we are?" he smirked, "Just a couple of Ministry workers?"

Hermione chuckled, "Yes, I think so."

Snape tilted his head. "Poor girl, you actually believe that people will look at you that way one day."

Hermione couldn't ascertain whether he was being entirely serious, something she found was becoming increasingly commonplace. Was this his way of injecting humour into a situation, or was he simply trying to keep her off balance.

"Why wouldn't they?" she replied at length. "My life is certainly nothing to write home about. I spend most of my day at my desk completing forms and enforcing what are, in my opinion, pointless bureaucratic and outdated rules."

He seemed to consider her, but she was unfazed by his scrutiny; instead she took the opportunity to take him in, to _drink_ him in. Suddenly she was shocked at the direction her thoughts were taking her – she wondered if this was something that had been bubbling for some time, or whether it was new. She had been thinking of him a lot and would have been lying to herself if she hadn't admitted to finding him a subject worthy of study, but _interest_ , that was… well, it must be the wine.

"I doubt you will be there forever, you are still young," he commented. "Life is seldom predictable." He took a large sip of his tea. "This is acceptable, thank you."

"I would have given anything for an 'exceeds expectations' from you when I was at school and now I am all grown up, I can't even get one for a cup of tea."

They both chuckled and she found she was grateful that he saw humour in her gentle teasing.

"You are starving for praise if you are looking for a certificate from me for your tea making skills."

"Yes well, perhaps I am." After the words left her mouth she momentarily felt surprise at her honesty. Any words of praise from him would have been welcome, she longed to hear them.

"I think it would be wise for you to move on and find some new life goals, Miss Granger." Snape frowned and took another large gulp of his tea.

Hermione brushed at a few stray cat hairs which had attached themselves to her jeans. "I am nothing if not ambitious." She set her tea down and leant over to grab the packet of Jaffa Cakes she's left on the chair the previous evening. "Can I interest you in a Jaffa Cake, Mr Snape?"

"Mr Snape is it?" He quirked an eyebrow, a gesture she was beginning to associate with humour. "You'll have to tidy up this establishment if you are putting on heirs and graces." Snape glanced around the room at the piles of books stacked on the coffee table and next to the lounge chair.

"Well, I wasn't expecting company now, was I?"

"No?" He plucked one of the Jaffa Cakes from the offered packet and popped it in his mouth, whole.

Hermione flushed at what she felt was a decidedly suggestive reply. "No." Hermione repeated, retrieved her mug. "We don't all prepare to entertain on a Friday night."

Snape rolled his eyes. "We're back to that are we?"

"So, you mean to tell me that all of those women were just friends then?" In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought. For some reason she just wanted to hear him admit to it, to say that he was… what exactly she realised, she didn't know.

"Does it matter that much to you what I do in my own time?" He raised his elbow to rest on the arm of the sofa and ran his hand over the stubble on his cheek.

"I just… it feels so out of character for you."

He smirked. "And you would know so much about that now, wouldn't you?" He gulped at his tea once more. "Is it because I was once your teacher, or do you find me so repulsive that you cannot imagine any of the female sex being interested in me, physically?"

Hermione just about choked on her tea.

"I do have mutually satisfying and consensual relationships with women from time to time, is that what you wanted to know?" he continued.

"Well…" Hermione cleared her throat. "Yes, I think that just about covers it." Such was the direct line of his questioning she was momentarily unsure where to look, though she was painfully aware that he had no such trouble scrutinising her. Now she was embarrassed that she'd asked, and what had started as light-hearted teasing in her mind suddenly felt like a much more serious topic of conversation. "I don't find you repulsive and I wouldn't want you to think that," she offered.

To her surprise he laughed. "Well, that _is_ a weight off my mind."

Hermione glanced at him and realised he'd been baiting her again. "You're incorrigible, you know that?" Their conversation had ventured in to perilous territory and yet he seemed to have taken it with reasonable grace. Now that he was sitting in front of her, so openly, she couldn't help but to inspect him further. Really, he hadn't changed so much in the last few years; perhaps, a few more grey hairs… but wasn't that to be expected? He was always immaculately dressed, and this evening was no different; certainly, his ruby waistcoat was a surprise, but the remaining black ensemble was as expected. Earlier she had spoken the truth, she didn't find him repulsive in the least and perhaps, as she continued to analyse her thoughts on the matter, she felt exactly the opposite. It was a disconcerting realisation, one she was sure would pass the next time he took it upon himself to throw an insult in her direction.

Snape leant forward and placed his now empty mug on the coffee table next to where she sat. "I am painfully aware of that fact. So much so that I think you should offer me another one of those Jaffa Cakes by way of an apology."

"Should I now?"

"Indeed, you should."

Ever the hostess Hermione handed him the packet. "Help yourself, I'll make another cup of tea, if you like."

Snape seemed to consider her for a moment as she stood; it didn't make her feel uncomfortable, but she felt his eyes wander over her and wondered what was going through his mind. "Thank you, yes." He answered at length.

Hermione removed her jumper as she entered her small kitchen and threw it over one of the chairs in corner of the room, next to the little table upon which sat an empty vase her grandmother had given her. It was strange, she reflected, that she found herself making a cup of tea for Severus Snape on a Friday night as he sat on her sofa eating Jaffa Cakes. The thought made her laugh softly to herself, it was absurd, really. Harry and Ron would be horrified, and she expected Ginny would make some sort of suggestive comment.

The kettle started to boil as she threw tea bags in to their respective mugs and collected the milk from the fridge. The noise from the kettle must have, on reflection, drowned out the sound of his shoes as he had moved across the laminate floor; the first she knew of him standing behind her was the subtle movement of her hair to one side and the shockingly sensuous feeling of his lips as they made contact with the sensitive skin on the back of her neck.

Hermione froze, a litany of questions suddenly flew into the forefront of her mind. What was he doing? Was he drunk? What did this mean? Did she want him to stop? Her racing thoughts were brought to an abrupt halt as his tongue moved lightly along the ridge of her ear causing her to gasp and grip the edge of the counter-top.

"What are you doing," she croaked.

He stilled, the silence between them heavy before he replied. "Are my advances unwelcome, Hermione?"

Was this just part of his routine? She couldn't deny how he made her feel, but equally, sensible Hermione Granger wasn't one to engage in this sort of thing, either.

She turned to face him and was met with a look of honest lust – no one had ever looked at her that was before, it was both arousing and terrifying and she found she wanted to embrace those feelings and throw caution to the wind for once.

"Hermione?"

She responded by threading her fingers through his hair to the nape of his neck and pulling him closer until their lips met. His were soft, warm, inviting; he tasted of the orange and chocolate Jaffa Cakes. He wasted no time in taking the lead, grasping her at the waist with both hands and pulling her towards him until their bodies met. His hands then descended as he cupped both of her bottom cheeks, latching them together, closer still. She couldn't help but let a whimper escape, which only seemed to drive him on as he proceeded to explore her clothed body with his hands.

When his hand came in to contact with her breast for the first time, she flinched, causing him to stop and look at her cautiously. It wasn't that she didn't want him to touch her there; Merlin, she felt exactly the opposite, it was more that touching her somewhere so intimate caused the reality of what was happening to come crashing down.

"Yes?" He asked.

"Sorry, yes!" she smiled shyly. "It was just a little unexpected."

He tilted his head. "If you'd rather not, we don't have to, it's important to me you know that."

"Severus, if you stop now I will never forgive you," she replied somewhat breathlessly, prompting him to smile and lean in to kiss her neck and send shivers down her spine.

It was Hermione who, sensing his reluctance to push her further, took his hand and led him to her bedroom, kicking off her shoes as she went. As they reach the doorway he unbuttoned his waistcoat and stood watching her as she unbuttoned her jeans on the far side of the room. She was next to the window where the curtains remained open, allowing the moonlight to cast her shadow across the bed.

After having thrown her jeans on the floor next to her wardrobe she unbuttoned her shirt and watched Snape… no, Severus, as he removed the cuff-links from his own crisp white shirt and put them in his pocket.

"Don't," he whispered as she moved to pull the shirt from her shoulders. "Allow me."

Hermione watched with anticipation as he made his way over to her by the window, still almost fully dressed save for his waistcoat and cravat, both of which he'd hung over her bedroom door handle. His eyes were hungry as he drank her in and it was hard for her to believe that it was she who had awoken such a reaction from this man.

Severus reached out and grabbed the collar of her shirt, urging her towards him to close the gap between their bodies. He slid his hands under the cotton, finally making contact with her skin, his fingers slowly trailed from her stomach to her waist, where he clutched her more firmly before lowering his head to kiss her.

"You are exquisite," He peppered a trial of light kisses along her neck as he moved hands to push her shirt from her shoulders, allowing it to fall to the floor.

"Merlin." It was all she found she could say, this man had held her captive with his attentions. Every touch burned and yet was not enough, but she yearned to see what he would do next. She knew she should feel self-conscious, being almost naked in front of him, but she couldn't, she felt too much anticipation.

Their lips met once more, and Hermione took the opportunity to divest him of his shirt before moving to his trousers. She almost laughed at her own boldness, but she couldn't allow him to remain clothed much longer. He palmed her lace-covered breast and this time there was no shock at the contact, only the expectation of what was to follow.

Soon, they had divested each other of their remaining garments; Hermione revelled in the feeling of his warm, soft skin, as they explored each other – the contact was unbelievably arousing.

"Bed?" He asked, his warm breath against her ear, his hair tickling her cheek.

"Yes," she cried wantonly.

HG

"Wow," Ginny set her coffee mug down on the table with a thud.

"I know." Hermione agreed.

Her night with Severus had been delicious; he'd drawn out her pleasure, reducing her to a puddle of wanting, leaving not an inch of her skin untouched. Even now, as she explained to Ginny what had happened, she shivered at the memory of his skin against hers, his breath against her ear and his raw need. He'd kept her awake most of the night, even when they hadn't been engaged in sex, he held her, running his hand over her body, seemingly revelling in the feel of her. They didn't speak much; it seemed profound, even as Hermione thought it over now, but really, there had been no words.

As the sun had risen, so had he; he sat on the chair in the corner of her bedroom putting on his shoes, leaving her feeling suddenly bereft. She wanted to ask him to stay, but she couldn't, it was obvious to her that he wanted to leave, and she wouldn't stand in his way.

"Try and get some sleep," was all he said as he kissed her tenderly on the forehead before he left.

"Are you seeing him again?"

This was, of course, the crux of the matter - she had absolutely no idea.

"I don't know." Hermione stirred her coffee and set the teaspoon down the table. "He didn't mention anything, and I didn't ask him."

"Do you want to see him again?"

"I do, and I don't." Hermione grimaced. "I won't be one of his toys to pick up and put down on a whim, but on the other hand, Gin, the way he made me feel was incredible. I think I am spoiled, I just can't imagine feeling that way with someone else." She sipped her coffee to stop herself from gushing.

Ginny stared. "Hermione, this sounds all a bit much, you barely know him."

"We've talked," Even to herself her reply sounded feeble.

"You mean you've bickered." Ginny laughed softly, that's all you two seem to do when you see each other. You don't even know if he is single or where he lives." Then Ginny's tone changed. "Don't let him use you, you're better than that. For all you know this is his routine, invite himself over-"

"I asked him in, actually." Hermione interrupted.

" _Invite himself over_ ," Ginny asserted, "and use all of the very little charm he possesses to have his way."

Hermione could have laughed at the absurdity of the notion that Severus had a routine in which to bed women, but then Ginny was right, she didn't know him well enough to know if he was capable of such a thing. He was certainly capable of manipulation, a thought which deflated her considerably.

"It didn't seem that way last night."

Ginny shook her head. "It rarely does; just be careful."

Hermione nodded. "Come on, let's get to the bookshop before it closes." She stood and grabbed her umbrella, glancing out the window. "Perhaps it'll stop raining."

HG


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favourited and followed this little story – I am eternally grateful, and I hope you enjoy this next instalment._

 _This chapter is part two, of three parts._

HG

As expected their picture was plastered across the front of _The Prophet_ ; however, instead of it being a piece about a suspected affair, it had been about their argument. Hermione was relieved; but as try she might, she couldn't stop thinking about him. As the weekend came to an end she didn't know whether to feel thankful, or upset, that he hadn't contacted her at all. However, being a sensible person in most circumstances and taking pride in herself for being reasonably pragmatic when the occasion called for it, she knew, there was nothing she could do other than carrying on as usual.

The more she thought over it, it didn't seem reasonable to place expectations on him when she wasn't entirely certain what she wanted from their association. It was obvious that they had a physical connection, but beyond that? Ginny has been right, they hardly knew each on a personal level.

When she arrived at the office Quentin was outraged that Severus Snape had approached and rebuked her in such a public place as the Ministry's Floo hall. "That guy is a total wanker, Quentin supplied, throwing the Hampstead report on her desk on Monday morning. "Don't let him get to you; I mean, all the work you put in to getting those hearts for him and he didn't have the common decency to thank you for it. It's a bloody cheek is what it is."

"I am sure he had his reasons." She replied, dipping the nib of her quill into the inkwell. "I hardly expected a little thank you card and a bunch of flowers."

"But dragon hearts! He knows how difficult they are to come by and it wasn't exactly your job to go sorting it out either."

"It doesn't matter, really." Would he just shut up about it! She imagined a reality where the ground opened beneath him and sucked him through to a different dimension, preferably one as far away from her personal life as possible.

"Plus, he's sleeping his way through the Ministry by the looks of things."

Hermione's stomach sank, and her quill paused mid-word, she really didn't want to be having this conversation about that man, with this man, at the current time.

"My sister knows a wizard who works in Muggle relations who said that his cousin's friend was completely taken advantage of by him. He took her to a hotel, had his way and never spoke to her again."

"You can't believe everything you hear, Quentin."

"Yeah, well, where there's smoke there's fire; that man has no scruples, not one."

Hermione hoped he had at least one.

HG

Monday turned in to Tuesday and she had all but given up hope that he would want to see her again, it seemed she had been just another one of his conquests. How could he treat her so tenderly and walk away so easily? With every day that passed and despite her best efforts, she was beginning to resent him, and yet she knew she would open her arms to him without a second thought – it was enough to make her question her sanity. She was a strong woman, not a doormat to be walked all over just because he didn't want to spend the night alone. If there was one thing Hermione Granger never wished to do, it was to show weakness.

Each night when she went to bed she could smell him on the pillows, his sandalwood shaving balm which she's first smelt at the Ministry's ball a few years ago, lingered on the soft cotton fabric. She was left feeling weak with her wanting of him, so much so that she, very briefly, considered he might have slipped something in her tea that night.

On Thursday evening as she was pulling her chicken lasagne out of the oven there was a knock at the door.

"Just a minute," she shouted, sliding the pan on to the top of the cooker, pulling off her cow print oven gloves and throwing them on the counter-top next to the sink.

It was ironic that having spent the best part of the week wanting him to show up at her door, that when he did, she was surprised and somewhat lost for conversation.

"Hello."

"Hi." She replied, wrestling with her complicated feelings.

"I brought you a present." He fumbled at the pocket of his cloak before revealing an unopened packet of Jaffa Cakes.

She couldn't help but laugh at his arrogance, to show up after almost a week without a word and then offer Jaffa Cakes as some sort of icebreaker as if an - admittedly - delicious orange and chocolate treat would make up for his behaviour.

"Am I welcome?" he asked evenly, perhaps sensing her uneasy mood or maybe this was the part where she was supposed to come to her senses and slam the door in his face?

Hermione was momentarily conflicted but felt equally curious; she stood aside and gestured for him to enter. "I was just about to have some dinner, if you are interested?" she offered neutrally, taking the Jaffa Cakes from his outstretched hand.

Severus unbuttoned his cloak and threw it on the arm of the sofa; obviously that was a 'yes' to dinner then. He followed her to the kitchen and watched in silence as she grabbed two plates and served the dinner.

Hermione handed him the slightly larger portion and gestured for him to follow her to the lounge; he chose to sit in his previous spot on the sofa, while she felt it best to maintain a little distance and settled on the lounge chair. Immediately her eyes were drawn to his dark blue paisley patterned waistcoat.

"How have you been?" he asked with what seemed like genuine interest.

 _Well I have spent the best part of the week obsessing about you, wondering what you want from me. I don't know what I want from you, but I know I am worried about getting hurt. You made me feel so desirable and I don't know if it is possible for someone else to make me feel that way. You confuse me. Other than that, I am fine, thanks for asking._

Except she didn't say any of those things instead she said, "It's been a busy week, what with the Minister deciding he wants to consider setting import duties by region, rather than by country. I swear he has nothing better to do than to create needless work just to say he's made changes, regardless of whether they actually improve anything at all."

Severus laughed. "It is no different at the hospital," he replied, cutting in to his slice of lasagne with the side of his fork. "I tend to ignore them for the most part and they leave me alone."

"Yes, well, its okay for you, no one would dare cross you."

This time he smirked, "Having a somewhat perilous background does have its uses, from time to time."

How was it that he had begun to relax when she felt like a taut string? She quickly resolved it was probably because he knew his own mind - his intentions - while she was left wanting. She could ask of course, but she wasn't sure she was prepared for the answer, quite yet.

As their dinner conversation continued she finally began to relax; they'd even opened a bottle of wine as they discussed the frustrations of public service, thus finding common ground. It was nice to talk to someone who understood, who could appreciate the humour in similar situations. Neither one of them mentioned their night together, but somehow, she was able to push it to the back of her mind, at least for a little while.

"Shall I put the telly on, so we don't depress ourselves with the state of our professional lives?"

"Speak for yourself, I consider myself a successful individual."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Yes, well, some of us aren't curing the sick for a living."

Severus smirked once more while Hermione did her best not to launch herself at him demanding to know what he thought he was playing at by showing up at her flat. What did he want?

Hermione briefly entertained the notion of asking if he'd mind if she caught up with the latest episode of _Cold Feet,_ but thankfully she reminded herself that programmes about relationships were probably best avoided at this juncture. Instead they settled on _Who wants to be a Millionaire?_ which proved hilarious when Severus become enraged because a 'dunderheaded idiot' didn't know the capital of Australia.

"Where do they get these people?" He asked, aggressively removing yet another Jaffa Cake from the packet he had brought her that evening. "That is basic world geography, do these Muggles teach their children nothing? I guarantee you that I would have won the money without question."

Hermione laughed, primarily at herself - his arrogance was endearing, really.

"And if you were asked to name the members of Westlife, you'd have no problem with that I suppose?" she challenged.

"That's what _Legilimacy_ is for, my dear, Hermione."

"That's cheating!" She was outraged, such a thing struck directly to her core of decency.

"Only if someone finds out." He replied, nonplussed by her reaction.

"No wonder you were the Head of Slytherin." Hermione grumbled, reaching over to him and plucking the packet of Jaffa Cakes from his lap, only to discover there were only two left. "Why did you bring me these if you were going to eat them all?"

Severus laughed. "You thought they were for you?" He was blatantly unapologetic.

"You said they were a present!" Before she could retaliate the phone rang. "Hang on a moment, I'm not finished with you!" She got up and grabbed the phone from the mantle over the small Victorian fireplace. "Don't you think for one moment you're getting away with that," she cautioned, pointing the phone receiver at him before she pressed the button to answer.

"Hello." It was her Mum.

"No, nothing much," she replied. "I was just having dinner and… no, the chicken lasagne you gave me… yes, it was very nice, thank you. Yes, there will be enough for tomorrow too."

She looked over at Severus who was studying her intently, his eyes tracking her every movement as she slowly paced by the door.

"Yes, we… I just finished watching it… yes, unbelievable in this day and age, with the internet and everything."

"What?" she mouthed as he continued to stare, an eyebrow raised and a smirk across his face. It was most off putting to have him inspecting her in such a way, so she turned and put her back to him to better concentrate on the conversation.

"Of course… well, if you ask Dad if he would prefer lamb or beef I can sort it out… I don't mind really… no, it doesn't matter… whatever you fancy… peas, perhaps? Oh of course roast potatoooes!"

A large masculine hand had suddenly pushed itself under her blouse and across her bare stomach whilst it's partner in crime had affixed itself to her hip.

"No, everything is fine." Hermione did her best to keep her tone neutral while Severus pushed his body firmly against her back, making his intentions known.

"No?" he whispered in her ear playfully.

"Yes!" she all but shouted.

"No, not you, Mum," she corrected. "I was talking to Crookshanks."

She felt him rather than heard him chuckle.

"Look, Mum, I had better go, I'll see you on Sunday." Hermione turned the phone off and all but threw it on the chair.

He pulled her blouse over her head, obviously unwilling to waste time now that he had been given permission to continue – there was no way she would deny him. Delicately he kissed her shoulder and slowly began running his hands from her hips, up the sides of her body and made for her breasts. She couldn't help but let out a breathy moan, to which he responded with a knowing chuckle.

Eager to divest him of his clothing Hermione twisted in his embrace, made light work the buttons on his waistcoat, while he removed his cravat. His shirt was next; slowly she ran her hands up his body, over the light covering of dark hair, to his smooth shoulders, pushing his shirt from his back. Unfortunately, neither of them had remembered his cuff-links, but he was quick to cast a charm, causing them to fall on her carpeted floor with a dull thud.

"Remind me where they are later," he smirked, before kissing her soundly and sucking lightly at her bottom lip.

Before she knew it, he was urging her backward towards her bedroom, pulling at the button at the top of her trousers and then lowering the zip.

She couldn't deny the thrill of this man wanting her; he wasn't the sort of man she would ever have imagined being attracted to, but in that moment, when he was looking at her so intensely, whispering his intentions in her ear, she couldn't imagine being with anyone else in this way.

HG

Hermione rolled over and looked at the digital radio alarm clock on her bedside table, it was one of the random Muggle items she had grown up using when at home with her parents.

It was almost four o'clock in the morning and he was still here; she hadn't truly believed he'd get up and leave in the middle of the night, but it wasn't as if he had a history of staying for breakfast either.

A gap in the curtains allowed a strip of light to pass into the room and partially illuminate his face, allowing her the luxury of looking at him as he slept. He wasn't a swarthy man and yet a new layer of stubble added to his dark features. Hermione had always thought he had rather angular face, but age seemed to have softened his countenance. His lips were thin as they ever were, but now she knew they were capable of bringing her such pleasure, she wouldn't have them any other way.

She took the opportunity to glance down to his neck, one side pink and mottled from Nagini's attack. His survival had been nothing short of a miracle. Being able to see the damage wrought to his body, brought tears to her eyes and she wondered of the damage on the inside. Shortly after the end of the war she had heard that he had been disappointed at his survival, she wondered if he still felt the same now. He certainly didn't come across as a fatalistic person.

The bed sheet lay across his narrow hips allowing a rather delicious view of his torso; a light dusting of black hair, growing thicker as it disappeared underneath the sheet. She was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to run the palm of her hand from his chest to his stomach, just to enjoy the feel of him - of being close to him. Of course, she wouldn't do it, that would wake him and may just destroy the illusion that he belonged to her… and she wanted to maintain that fantasy for a little while longer… didn't she?

She must have fallen back to sleep, but it came as no surprise when her alarm went off and Hermione found him standing at the end of the bed tying his cravat.

"You're going?" she asked, trying to hide her disappointment.

He glanced over to her before putting on his waistcoat and walking over to her side of the bed.

"Have a good day at work," he said, softly.

As before he kissed her on the forehead and walked out to the lounge; shortly after which she heard the door to her flat close as he left, once again, leaving her alone.

HG

It came as no surprise when he didn't get in touch with her on Friday or Saturday, why would he? Again, they'd not ventured in to any sort of conversation regarding whatever it was they were to each other and so what could she expect? As you would imagine she had given the matter considerable thought and decided that she would be at peace with it, for the moment. She was tired of obsessing over it and wanted to give a little time see what happened. She was a more than a willing participant after all, and decided she was willing to take a risk with him, even if it meant getting hurt.

On Sunday her parents popped over for lunch as they usually did once or twice a month. Sometimes they would go over to Oxford Street for a little bit of shopping; unfortunately, due to the drizzling summer rain they gave it a miss and decided to stay inside and watch _Countryfile_ while the dinner cooked.

"You know, its days like this that I wonder why on earth we ever came back from Australia," her dad grumbled as he looked out the window.

"To spend time with your delightful daughter, perhaps!" Hermione replied from the archway to the kitchen.

"You know what I mean," he gestured to the window. "This bloody rain just goes on and on. It's June for goodness sake and I'd like to see the sun at least once before the onset of winter."

"Don't be so miserable, it'll pass," her mum laughed from where she sat on the sofa, a spot she had worryingly come to think of as 'Severus' seat'. "Maybe we should go on a little weekend break to Stratford, or somewhere like that? Her mum suggested. "Oh! What about York? I've always wanted to walk through the Shambles!"

"If it's raining down here then it's bloody well raining up there!" Her dad complained before moving to the chair, slumping down heavily. "Besides, we'd have to reorganise all of our appointments and you know how the patients get when we've done that in the past."

Hermione smiled and shook her head; her dad could be such a grumpy git at times.

"We could get a couple of locums in, it would only be for a day or two, I'm sure it'd be fine. You'd come along too wouldn't you, Hermione? It's been so long since we went on a trip as a family."

Hermione sensed her mum's ever-increasing excitement now that that the seed of her plan had been sown."Yes, I suppose I could get a couple of days off work, it'd be nice to get away and I hear York is lovely. We could go to the Minster and have a tea afterwards." She glanced at her dad who had crossed his arms and frowned. "What if we did a couple of brewery tours along the way?"

"Brewery tours?" Her dad sat up. "I suppose that might be interesting. What do you think Jean?"

Her mum glanced at her and smiled, knowingly. "I think that's a wonderful idea."

HG

Tuesday morning as Hermione was making her way through the Ministry's atrium on her way back to her office from lunch she bumped in to Harry.

"We're so busy right now," he moaned. "There a gang going around casting stunners and stealing people's brooms."

"Why would they want to do that?" Hermione asked. "It isn't as if everyone is riding their Nimbus 3000s to work?"

"We're not sure yet, but it seems pretty organised by the looks of things."

"Speaking of brooms, I suppose there hasn't been any word on Ron getting a game in?"

Harry shook his head. "Nope, the baby arrived on the Monday, so Ron didn't get the call up. He's a bit depressed about it to be honest, I think he's wondering if quidditch is going to work out of him."

"Oh dear." Hermione felt a bit guilty for not getting in touch with him since they had last spoken. "Maybe I should go around and see him. What do you think?"

"I think he'd really like that, Hermione. Why don't you take him out for lunch or something? It might help get his mind off it." Harry glanced over the huge clock at the far side of the atrium. "Look, I need to go, I'll catch up with you later, maybe we can all meet at the pub again,"

"Sounds, great," she smiled. "I can't do next weekend though as I'm going away with my parents for a few days."

HG

Thursday night Hermione _Apparated_ home after having spent the evening with Ron at a small Italian restaurant in Knightsbridge. One of the things she loved about living in London was the huge variety of different restaurants she had on her doorstep, just a short apparition away.

Ron hadn't seemed as down as she had pictured after her short conversation with Harry. In fact, he'd even thought about trying to get a transfer to another team on the continent, in France, Spain or Germany. Perhaps spreading his wings and going out into the world would be good for him; sometimes, she wondered if he felt the pressure of living in Harry's shadow.

Going out for dinner, just the two of them, wasn't something they had done often since they split up, but it was reassuring to confirm that their friendship was as strong as it had ever been. Obviously, she would miss him if he moved further away, but what was the point of possessing magical abilities if it didn't make seeing your far away friends considerably easier?

By the time Hermione had stopped at the little shop around the corner from her flat, to pick up a pint of milk, it wasn't quite ten o'clock at night. Whilst she was there she picked up a couple of bags of sweets and three large bottles of water for the trip to York tomorrow and popped them in her bag.

Once she reached her flat she unlocked the door and threw her bag and coat on the sofa. Immediately she was aware of a tapping on the kitchen window. She opened the blind to find a rather large dark owl with enormous yellow eyes, staring straight back at her intently. Once the window was opened she collected the letter, gave the owl a piece of chicken from the fridge and took the envelope into the lounge.

The spikey scrawl was instantly recognisable as that of her former professor and sometime lover; her stomach was in knots. Taking a deep breath, she pulled at the corners of the envelope, cracking open the black wax seal and unfolded the parchment within.

 _Hermione,_

 _I called upon you this evening but to appears you were otherwise engaged. Pity, I had brought dessert._

 _Severus._

What was that supposed to mean? Was he being suggestive, or had he really turned up clutching a tiramisu or a crème brulee? Hermione couldn't believe she hadn't been home, it was probably the closest she'd come to stamping her foot in temper. All week she'd been hoping he'd turn up and the one evening she went out, he knocked on her door. Perhaps she should reply? For a moment she thought about it, but she decided no, if he wanted to see her, he would be back. She took a deep breath and kicked off her shoes; this weekend she was going to forget all about him.

HG

"Well, that's a best pint I've had so far, what do you think, Hermione?" Her dad asked as he placed his pint glass back on the table and sat back in deep satisfaction.

Having spent the whole of the morning wandering through the Shambles, checking out the shops and marvelling and the medieval architecture, they'd stopped off at one of the many pubs close by for a drink and plate of chips.

"It was quite nice, but I think I prefer the one at the other pub, The White Rose." It may have surprised many of her friends if they found out that she enjoyed a pint of ale from time to time. "This was a bit citrusy for me."

"Hmm, yes I suppose it was a little."

"Aren't you glad we came now?" Her mum asked, looking at her husband.

"Yes, I admit you were right, just this once mind you." They laughed as he waggled his finger at his wife, with mock authority.

"Shall we get going to the Minster," suggested Hermione, grabbing her umbrella, "I think the worst of the crowd should be gone by now. Then we can pop back to the hotel, drop off these bags and go and find a good curry."

Indeed, the line to gain admission to the magnificent medieval building was considerably shorter than it had been earlier in the day and within a few minutes Hermione watched as her parents, fully equipped with their audio guides starting to wander around. Being the bibliophile that she was, she chose a rather weighty guidebook to supplement the research she's already done.

She'd been to other medieval cathedrals, but this one was one of the more spectacular, with the lancet windows, flying buttresses, and the beautiful stained glass which dominated whichever way she looked.

It was as she was taking it all in that thoughts of Severus entered her mind, unbidden. They started as she considered whether he was the sort of person who would appreciate such a place. She doubted he was a religious man, but did could he see the beauty in stone and glass, in the history the building had witnessed, as she could? There was something fascinating in considering the many people, through the centuries, who had stood where she now stood and looked up in awe at the vaulted ceiling of the Chapter House. Hermione walked back to the Nave looked up at the huge Rose window; what would Severus think of this, she wondered?

After her parents had come to the end of their tour and following a quick wander around the gift shop, where Hermione bought a miniature replica of the Rose window to hang in her kitchen, they made their way back to the hotel to change for dinner.

The Indian restaurant they eventually chose, after checking reviews on her dad's phone, was amazing. It was funny how restaurants across the country were frequently called, 'Indian' and yet India was such a vast country, it seem silly to consider that the food wouldn't vary considerably. Never the less, she'd never found a lamb bhuna she didn't like and so it came as no surprise when they had to order another garlic naan to mop up the remaining sauce from her plate, it was almost the best bit. Did Severus like curry? Perhaps she should ask him? Or order one the next time he popped over… _if_ he popped over. Hermione groaned internally as her line of thought.

The next day they stood in line for what seemed like an age to sit and have tea at the local tea rooms. Hermione almost laughed out loud when she thought of Severus selecting a delicately cut, crust-less cheese and cucumber sandwich from the tower or declaring that he preferred a custard slice to a miniature éclair. The macaroons were so nice she bought two boxes from the tearoom shop on their way out – a little treat for later.

They stopped at two breweries on their long drive home, which Hermione knew had been the highlight of the trip for her dad. The whole weekend had been so much fun. To just spend time with her parents doing things they would have done together if she hadn't been a witch, and been whisked away to a magical castle, and fought a magical despot, was liberating.

"I think Stratford next time? We can go and see a play!" Hermione said to her parents as they got home. She wondered if Severus enjoyed Shakespeare.

HG

There had been no sign of Severus on Monday or Tuesday and to be quite honest, she wasn't sure if she was bitterly disappointed, or relieved, that he appeared to have moved on.

On Wednesday evening as she sat in front of the telly watching a repeated episode of Only Fools and Horses, she suddenly remembered that the previous two occasions he had turned up on her doorstep had been on Thursdays. She relaxed, perhaps he would stop by tomorrow?

Hermione had popped a macaroon in her mouth and was sipping at her cup on tea when there was a knock at the door. Her heart was completing for space in her mouth, along with the macaroon as she leapt up, chewing frantically and hoping to Merlin it was Severus on the other side.

By the time she opened the door he had already begun walking back down the stairs but turned as soon as he heard her footsteps on the landing.

"So, you are home." He commented, looking up at her.

"Yes, er, sorry, I was… eating a macaroon." Hermione pointed at her mouth as if he wouldn't know how one ate.

"A macaroon?" He asked with interest. "Would there be any left for me?"

"If you come in," she replied, evenly.

He didn't reply except to characteristically raise an eyebrow at her as he walked back up the stairs and swept past, crossing over the threshold and into the lounge.

"You were not home last week, I sent you a note." He said, taking off his cloak and throwing over the back of one of the chairs. "You weren't occupied in doing anything too exciting I hope?"

"I was having dinner with Ron, actually."

His expression changed minutely, and she puzzled over his motivation for these visits, yet again. Here he was, once more, turning up without notice, he had no right to an opinion of who she saw and what she did. Though he seemed relaxed, it was hard to know if it was all a façade - an act. Obviously, he felt confident of his welcome or he would not have returned; was it simply conceit or interest, on his part?

"Have you eaten?" he asked, glancing in to the kitchen, hopefully.

Perhaps it was just the food. Hermione looked over at the half-eaten packet of macaroons sitting on her coffee table. "Just a little snack," she replied. "Are you hungry?"

"I certainly wouldn't say no to something to eat." Severus replied, suggestively casting his eyes over her body, without shame.

Hermione blushed. "I can call for a take-away, curry?"

He walked over to his spot on the sofa and sat down, making himself quite at home. "What a wonderful idea."

Hermione grabbed the phone and called her local Indian restaurant.

"Is this programme still on?" he gestured at the television. "My father used to watch this, the no-good waste of space," he added, almost to himself.

"Hello, is that Taste of India? "she spoke into the receiver, before covering the end with her hand. "No, they're all reruns."

He nodded, seemly satisfied with her reply.

"Yes, can I order, two garlic naans, a basmati rice, a saag paneer, a lamb bhuna…" she looked over at Severus, questioningly.

"Butter chicken." He answered.

"And a butter chicken."

"Yes, Hermione Granger… pay on delivery… thirty to forty minutes? Okay. Thanks. Bye."

"Indian," he commented, "you fancy something spicy."

There was no doubting his double meaning, but she chose to ignore him and instead she walked to the kitchen to retrieve two glasses of wine and a bottle of red she'd been saving for a special occasion. Not that this was a special occasion mind you, but now was as a good a time as ever.

"Red okay for you, I hope?" Hermione asked, placing the two glasses on the coffee table before pulling to cork out of the bottle with her wand.

"Perfectly acceptable."

Hermione couldn't help but eye the space on the sofa next to him and decided that being a wilting violet around this man probably wasn't the right way to go about things if she wanted to demonstrate his welcome. Rolling around in bed together in the dark felt oddly less intimate than sharing the sofa, a bottle of rioja, and watching reruns of classic British sitcoms.

Grabbing her glass, she manoeuvred herself around the small oak table and plonked herself down next to him. Of course, he was much too busy inspecting the wine, giving it a sniff and sloshing it around his mouth as if he was some sort of bloody wine connoisseur to pay any attention to where she chose to sit.

"This is a nice bottle," he commented after finally taking a sip.

"My parents gave it to me on my twenty first birthday. I think we were supposed to drink it that night, but my mum almost choked on a fish bone and it was forgotten about." Hermione took a sip. "My dad likes wine, I expect he chose it."

He turned to look at her causing Hermione to feel as if she was being inspected but not in any kind of sexual manner, before turning back to the television.

"I don't suppose they'll have Blackadder on?" Severus gestured towards the telly.

"Probably," she sipped at her wine. "It's on all the time. Is this okay, or would you rather I changed the channel?

"This is fine, thank you."

It was surprising, the way they sat in companionable silence as they waited for their dinner to arrive, there was no awkwardness between them. He refilled her glass and even chuckled a few times; perhaps, she should have chosen comedy programming the last time they had watched television together, instead of a quiz show – there was less opportunity for dunderheadedness.

Before the episode ended their dinner had arrived; Severus must have been hungry as he wasted no time in collecting the plates and cutlery from the kitchen while she removed the foil containers from the carrier bags.

"Would you like a bit of everything?" she asked, trying not to burn her fingers on the hot food.

"Please," he nodded. "Hang on, let me do that, you sit down."

No sooner than she had sat back in her place next to him, Severus had dished out the food and handed her a plate. The aromatic smells reminded her stomach of its hunger causing it to make a demanding growl.

"Proof that you need a good meal and not just biscuits." He admonished with hint of a smile.

"I know, I know. It's just a hassle sometimes when you're cooking for one."

He didn't say anything in reply; obviously more interested in his food, instead he tore a large piece from his pillowy naan and dunked it straight into the sauce from his butter chicken. Hermione smiled at his obvious appreciation of Indian cuisine. Perhaps they had more in common outside of the bedroom than she anticipated… maybe.

By the time they'd finished with their dinner, there wasn't a morsel left and not a drop of wine. They'd watched another episode of Only Fools and Horses before an episode of Blackadder started.

"This is more like it," Severus said, placing him empty plate on the table and sifting in his seat to make himself comfortable.

Hermione eye him appreciatively as his expression changed each time he found something amusing. He seemed lighter of heart than she remembered him in past, but he still went about his business with the same intensity, the same intensity that held her captive. She wondered what he would do if she closed the distance between them. It was ridiculous that she would hesitate, but then all their physical interactions had led to something more and right now, all she wanted was to be close with no expectation – not yet, anyway.

Emboldened she did just that, moving towards him so their thighs touched as she wrapped her arm around his elbow, as if was the most natural thing in the world. Severus looked down his nose at her; if he was uncomfortable, he didn't show it, much to her relief. For the rest of the evening she could forget that she had absolutely no idea what they were to each other, if she wanted it to be more, or if he was simply taking what she gave him.

By the time the second episode had finished, and it was almost ten o'clock, Hermione was beginning to feel the build up of anticipation in the pit of her stomach. He'd always made the first move until now, but tonight she felt she should let Severus know that she wanted him too.

She glanced up at him and ran her hand slowly down the white sleeve of his shirt before trailing her fingers along the top of his hand. Instantly she had his attention.

Always one to learn from her previous mistakes she reached for his cuff and slowly unfastened the cuff-link before reaching for his other hand and doing the same. "I wouldn't want us to be encumbered this time," she added, placing the shiny silver objects on the table.

Severus was watching her intently; his eyes following every move of her hands as she undid the buttons of his emerald green waistcoat, one at a time. Next, she loosened the knot of his cravat before unwinding the silky black tie and pulling it slowly from around his neck. Her fingers naturally made their way to the collar of his shirt; she couldn't help but notice the his adam's apple bob as he swallowed, silently. One by one she worked at the buttons of his shirt until almost the whole of his torso was revealed, she would never get bored of simply looking at him.

Hermione had never considered herself a seductress in any way, and yet, her affect on him was easily noticeable.

"Your blouse." Severus instructed, quietly, but authoritatively.

How he made those two words sound so erotic to her ears, she didn't know. Immediately, she moved to stand in front of him and slowly pulled her top over her head, casting it over the coffee table, and on to the floor, to reveal one of her new black lacy bras. Sadly, she hadn't put on matching knickers, but what did he expect if he insisted in turning up without notice.

Unable to remain passive any longer, Severus stood and placed both hands lightly on her cheeks, kissing her hungrily. His hands moved, ghosting over her bare shoulders, down her arms to her hands, where their fingers intertwined – she moaned against his lips. Releasing one hand, he cupped her lace-covered breast, running his thumb over her nipple, sending a shiver of anticipation down her spine. It was all she needed to lead him to her bedroom once more.

HG

The room was lit by the morning sun peaking through a small gap in the curtains; immediately, she noticed a cold expanse of mattress where Severus should have been laying. A quick glance at the clock told her it was still early, much too early to have 'abandoned ship', in her opinion – her stomach sank. She couldn't work this man out at all; he seemed to enjoy her company, they had interesting conversations, he made her laugh – she wasn't sure the feeling was mutual, but that was hardly surprising considering he was a curmudgeonly grump.

Footsteps approaching the bedroom door told her he hadn't left yet.

"Severus?"

His silhouette appeared through the doorway almost immediately.

"Why do you always leave so early in the morning?"

"I have work, as do you." He was the very essence of his most austere self, there was no hint of the man she knew from their nights together.

Hermione sat up, clutching the duvet to her naked chest instinctively. "I don't have to be in the office for almost three hours." Quite how she thought that would change anything, she wasn't sure."

As he moved around the bed she noticed he was missing his trousers, which he soon plucked from her bedroom floor and slide up his long legs. "I have an early start."

He was so detached and clipped in his tone, it was maddening. Was it so hard for him to just say, one way or the other, what was between them, to give just a little? Like magma in a volcano the pressure of concealing her pent-up emotions from him became too much, she snapped.

"Okay fine, I think I finally have come to understand that you see this, whatever it is, as a purely physical transaction, so, if you could do me the courtesy of not bothering to arrive early for dinner next week, we can save time and just get down to business. You don't need to pretend this is anything else to you."

The angry reply she was expecting was not forthcoming, instead he stared at her, a cold emotionless expression she hadn't see in quite time.

"You'll move on in a few weeks, I know how it works," she added, as much to fill the short silence as to press home her hurt feelings.

"You know nothing," he hissed. "I have told you before that you know nothing of me, yet you read that damned newspaper and listen to gossip and have your opinion formed."

"What am I to think, Severus? You treat me like some casual fling," she cried, angrily, "to pick up and put down wherever you feel like you need a little company." The subtle, but agitated movement of his fingers drew her eyes away from his face momentarily.

Suddenly, angry words burst from his mouth. "How could we possibly be anything else?" he yelled.

Immediately, Hermione had heard enough. "Get out. Now." she seethed. "I refuse to be used in your pathetic little games."

He started to the door, turning to glace at her one last time. "With pleasure," he spat.

She listened to his angry footsteps before she heard the front door slam.

Hermione burst into tears.

 _AN: York is a city in the north of England which still retains a lot of the medieval architecture._

' _The Shambles' being a surviving example of a medieval street, still in use today._

 _York Minster (the Minster) is a spectacular cathedral_


	3. Chapter 3

_AN: Surprise! Yes, I have finally finished this story. Thank you to everyone who has read this little story so far, you are all appreciated. All mistakes are my own :)_

 _Characters belong to JKR and I made no money from this little endeavour._

The heavy summer rain bouncing off the bedroom window was oddly comforting as Hermione lay, ensconced in her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. She had called in sick from work again and had no inclination whatsoever to venture out in to the world, not for a few days at least.

How had it all gone so wrong? How had she allowed it to happen in the first place? These were just two of the questions that had been racing through her mind since he had stormed out of her flat in a rage. What did he have to be so angry about? There would be others, he wouldn't be alone for long, she was certain of that. Hermione sighed, but the very thought of Severus with someone else felt like a lead weight sitting on her stomach - it was much too soon.

Perhaps she wasn't as intelligent as she had once thought; hadn't Ginny warned her to be careful, and yet she had thrown caution to the wind, pretending to herself that it would be okay. Hermione rolled over and pulled the duvet up and over her bare shoulder. How had she allowed him to bowl her over with his need; to give in to him so easily? She remembered at the beginning of their recent acquaintance how she had rattled off the names of other women he had probably thrown away in the same manner, before joining the club as just other one of Severus Snape's cast offs. Did they feel the same sense of loss too?

Hermione closed her eyes; she wouldn't die from not having him, life would go on… it should go on, well, in a few days once she gathered herself together, stopped moping around and feeling sorry for herself. It had been sex – physical - it wasn't as if they had feelings for each other.

HG

"Would you like a cup of tea?" Hermione walked over to the kettle in anticipation of a positive reply.

"Yes, please." Ginny sat down at the little round table in the corner of Hermione's kitchen. "These are nice flowers," she commented, pointing to the vase in the middle of the table brimming with purple, pink and yellow blooms.

Hermione flicked the kettle on. "My parents sent them this morning, I told them I wasn't well enough for our Saturday brunch, that I just needed a bit of space."

"That's understandable," Ginny nodded and glanced across the kitchen.

"Don't feel sorry for me, Gin, I got myself into this mess," Hermione cautioned after she received what she felt sure to be a most pitying look from her childhood friend.

Ginny traced the abstract pattern on the table cloth with her fingertip, seemingly considering her reply carefully. "I know, but I don't like seeing you hurt, either. You deserve better."

Hermione plopped a teabag in to each mug and collected the milk from the fridge. "I would offer you a biscuit, but I don't have any left."

"I'm not here for the biscuits, Hermione, I'm here so you can talk… to offer some moral support."

"You won't say 'I told you so,' will you?"

Ginny smiled. "I promise. Now, pour that kettle, come and sit down and get things off your chest."

No sooner had Ginny given her instructions, the kettle clicked off; Hermione quickly made the tea, before doing as she was told and taking her seat at the table.

"Thanks, this looks perfect," said Ginny, stirring her tea before setting the teaspoon down on her coaster. "Now, start from the beginning."

Hermione told Ginny everything, from his second visit, the note that he'd left, to their argument several days ago. "The strange thing about all this is that I'm not sure I'm even that angry with him anymore, just bitterly disappointed in myself for allowing it to happen."

"I have to say, I'm really surprised you're so down on yourself about it, Hermione. He's the one that kept seeking you out, it isn't as if you begged him to come over."

Hermione grimaced. "But I wanted him to, Gin. When I opened the door to find him on the other side, I was ecstatic. Urgh, I was so malleable."

Ginny sighed. "Well, you know what you could always do, if it matters that much…"

"What?"

"Go and talk to him."

Hermione laughed. "No, I can't. Call me proud, but I won't go to him. I'm not giving him the satisfaction of throwing me over twice!"

"Are you sure? You're not even a little curious?"

Hermione shook her head. "Anyway, I don't even know if I want a relationship with him; the sex was amazing, don't get me wrong, but being together… cooking his dinner, picking up his dirty socks…"

It was Ginny's turn to laugh. "I think you've jumped about fifty steps into the future. Just because you're interested in the seeing what happens doesn't mean you have some sort of long-term future with him! He might be in the most boring man on the planet for all you know… plus, the very idea of you picking up his dirty socks is pretty hilarious, Hermione."

Hermione gifted her friend with a look of frustration. "That's not what I meant, what I mean is can you imagine him settling down? Cooking a fry up on a Saturday morning, reading the newspaper in bed, or going to the pub quiz on a Friday night?"

Ginny took a deep breath and sighed, appearing to consider the question seriously while glancing out the little kitchen window. "Actually, considering some of the things you've told me about him, I can," she replied with a sigh. You need to think about whether or not you want to take a risk and find out."

There was a pregnant pause before Hermione spoke again. "To be honest I don't know how to feel about it all. For all know he actually _is_ the total bastard who taught double potions on a Thursday afternoon.

Hermione rested her chin in both hands and rubbed her tired eyes with her fingertips. How was it that Ginny saw these things in him when she knew about as much about him as Hermione did, probably even less. Hermione tried to imagine Severus coming home on a Friday night with a bag of fish and chips before sitting down on the sofa and watching some terrible police drama together on ITV.

"Totally changing the subject." Ginny tapped the table with her hand excitedly, breaking Hermione's line of thought. "Ron's moving to Germany; the Heidelberg Harriers have offered him a two-year contract and he is guaranteed to start!"

"Oh, my goodness," Hermione cried, her troubles with Severus momentarily forgotten. "I'm so excited for him. When did this happen? When does he go?"

"He's not going for another few weeks, the transfer was only finalised yesterday, so don't tell anyone yet."

"My lips are sealed."

HG

Hermione had given much thought in the weeks following her chat with Ginny and had decided, after much soul searching, that she would let Severus go and put it all down to experience. She worked at putting him behind her by keeping busy: meeting Harry and Ron for lunch, Sunday roast with her parents and even a trip up to Hogwarts to see Neville and his increasingly established formatogoria plant.

On a drizzly July morning Hermione walked through the Ministry, caught a lift and arrived at her desk.

"I left you a present, I thought you might be interested." Quinten announced, a trifle too smugly in her opinion.

Sitting down in her chair she immediately noticed the morning edition of the Daily Prophet with Severus Snape's face plastered across the front, under the headline:

 _ **Snape solves it! A cure at last!**_

After skim reading the article it appeared that St Mungo's were about to carry out trials of the Spattergroit remedy that Severus had been rumoured to have been researching. Hermione was relieved to find that she was happy for him; such a discovery, should it prove successful, would be certain to push his past firmly into the background, once and for all.

"Well, let's hope the trials go well." Hermione folded the newspaper and placed in it her out-tray. "Have you finished with the Genoa file yet? I want to get a head start this morning."

HG

The next day Hermione had received a note from Ron, inviting her to the Iron Duke on Friday evening for drink as a little celebration of his up and coming move. The two friends exchanged a flurry of letters over the following days as they reminisced about their time at Hogwarts and talked of Ron's hopes for his move to Germany. It was wonderful to see Ron excited again after the many disappointments so far in his career; he had known a career in quidditch was always going to be a risk, but finally an opportunity had presented itself!

HG

Hermione shook out her umbrella, sending droplets of water onto the flagstone floor of the historic London public house. She scanned the room for her friends; Ron, Harry and Ginny were already seated at a table at the far end of the room. Wasting no time, she made for Ron and embraced him affectionately.

"I am so happy for you, you're going to do so well, I can feel it in my bones." Hermione enthused.

Ron beamed a smile back in return. "Thanks, Hermione. I know quidditch isn't really your thing, but I appreciate your support."

"Of course, I'll support you, Ron, you're one of my best friends!"

Hermione pulled out the chair next to Ron and sat down. "So, are you all packed yet? When is your first game and can I have a ticket?"

Immediately Ron's face lit up with excitement. "I won't get to play for a couple of weeks because of the summer break, but I'll be training with the team and get to know my teammates."

"And have you learnt any German yet?" Hermione asked, knowing full well that something so practical would have been furthest from his mind.

As expected, Ron laughed. "No! That's what translation spells are for!"

"My brother is so lazy," Ginny remarked with a roll of her eyes.

Keen not to get between the two siblings, Hermione arose from her chair. "Anyone need a drink? I'm going to the bar."

Ron and Harry both nodded.

"Here, I'll come with you," said Ginny, already getting up from her seat.

"Neville and Luna should be here soon," Ginny said as they reached the bar. "I'll get Neville a pint and Luna a glass of red."

"No, my treat, I'll get this round." Hermione insisted. "I haven't seen Luna in ages, how is she?"

Ginny looked over her shoulder before turning back and leaning in towards Hermione's ear. "I am beginning to think she works in the Department of Mysteries," she whispered. "I can't get any sense out of her no matter how much I try and probe."

Hermione grinned. "Well, whatever she is up to, as long as she is enjoying it, that's good enough for me."

Neville arrived to join them just as Hermione and Ginny had returned from their foray to the bar. "I'm sorry I'm late, guys," he apologised as he removed his jacket and threw it over the back of his chair. "Filch found of group of Slytherins trying to break into the Gryffindor common room and it all got a little heated."

"Bloody Slytherins." Ron muttered, rather too loudly for Hermione's liking.

Thankfully Luna's arrival put a stop to any thoughts of a conversation about house rivalry and the group soon settled down at the table, catching up with each other, and taking turns to quiz Ron on the subject of German geography, common phrases and quidditch.

Hermione had been just about to ask Luna about her father's continuing work in publishing when Ginny, who had a perfect view of the pub entrance, leaned over the table to whisper in Hermione's ear.

"Don't turn around," she cautioned. "He's just walked in."

It took a few moments before Hermione realised to whom Ginny had been referring; she shifted in her seat and straightened her posture.

"Who?" Luna asked, glancing towards the door. "Mr Snape?"

"Shhh!" Ginny placed her finger over her mouth. "He might hear you."

"What's wrong with Mr Snape? He's been doing some wonderful things over at St Mungo's, recently." Luna seemed oblivious to Hermione's rigid discomfort. "Is that Barnaby Lee he's with?"

"Who's Barnaby Lee?" Hermione asked.

"He's one of the researchers at the hospital, I believe he's in Mr Snape's team. I expect they're here to celebrate the success of their first Spattergroit trail." Luna sipped her wine. "It went very well from what I have heard, though it is still early days."

Hermione noticed Ginny's gaze move from her face to over her shoulder, presumably to cast a glimpse of Severus and his colleague.

"You should go and ask him about it, Hermione, I am sure it would be very interesting." Luna added.

Hermione let out an involuntary gasp. "I don't think that's wise, not tonight, anyway." She felt herself flush and hoped no one would notice her discomfort.

"Why ever not?"

"Well, for one thing we're supposed to be here for Ron." Hermione replied, thinking on her feet. "And not only that, but I am sure they don't want to be disturbed by work questions when they are out trying to relax."

Hermione noticed that Luna gave her an odd look before acquiescing and moving chairs to talk to Ron about his new German adventure.

Her attempt at indifference had been futile; despite sitting with her back to him, she couldn't help but watch Ginny's expression every time she glanced over Hermione's shoulder at Severus.

"Ginny, I wish you would stop doing that." Hermione whispered across the table.

Ginny frowned, "I can't help it," she admitted, honestly. "I can't believe he hasn't even come over and said hello."

"Goodness sake, Gin, what makes you think he would ever do such a thing?"

"Perhaps the fact that its polite," Ginny replied indignantly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Do you go over and say hello to everyone you ever slept with?" she whispered. "Exactly." Hermione nodded at Ginny's incredulous expression. "I'm sure he isn't wasting a moment's thought on why I haven't rushed over to exchanged pleasantries… if he's even noticed I am here at all."

"What are you two gossiping about?" Harry asked, pulling out the empty chair next to Ginny and sat down."

"This and that." Hermione replied, neutrally. "I heard it was your round, actually."

Harry laughed. "I've just sat down."

Hermione waved her empty glass in Harry's direction and smiled. "I got the last one and now my glass is empty."

With good grace Harry took her glass and headed for the bar, much to Hermione's relief. She was much too flustered at Severus' arrival and just needed a few moments to gather herself together.

"He definitely knows you're here, Hermione. I made eye contact with him when he walked in and he definitely looked over in your direction."

Hermione sighed. "Wonderful."

"He's gone to the bar, Harry's said something to him and he looks pretty pissed off about it." Ginny craned her head to get better view. "Harry is laughing, and Snape still looks pretty furious."

"You didn't…"

"Of course not!"

"Snape has gone back to his table, Harry is getting the drinks."

"I don't need a blow by blow of what Severus is doing, Gin."

"You won't want to know that he's just invited two women to his table then." Ginny replied."

Hermione felt her stomach leap into her throat. "What?!"

"There were a couple of women at the next table, so they've pushed the tables together and how they're having a very cosy chat."

"Two glasses of red wine and a pint." Interrupted Harry, setting down the drinks and re-taking the chair next to his wife. "That Snape is still a class one git. Don't get me wrong, I respect him, but the guy has no idea how to be a decent person."

"What did you say to him?" Ginny asked.

"I just asked him if he wanted to join us."

"What?!" For the second time Hermione hadn't been able to halt the exclamation before it passed across her lips.

Harry and Ginny turned to her in unison. Ginny wore a look which Hermione was certain was pity, while Harry appeared to be confused.

"I thought you might like to have a chat with him about his St Mungo's research, I was trying to be nice!"

Hermione reached for her glass and took a larger than necessary sip. "And what did he have to say to that?"

"He told me to piss off." Harry shook his head. "Well, not in those exact words, but you get the idea."

Hermione looked down at the table, trying to hide the hurt she felt from Harry and avoid a further sympathetic look from Ginny. His refusal probably hadn't had anything to do with her, but it was hard to rationalise her thoughts when they were such upheaval. Inwardly she reminded herself that she didn't care what the man did, who he saw or what he said. Their association was in the past and they had both moved on.

"Hey, Hermione, tell Ron how big my formatogoria was when you saw it!" Neville shouted across the table.

Instantly they all erupted in to laughter at the unintentional innuendo as Neville went puce. "Guys, you know what I meant! Tell them, Hermione."

Grateful to have moved on from Severus, Hermione gladly demonstrated the sized of Neville's prized flora, much to his continued embarrassment.

As the evening wore on Hermione relaxed and had kept her covert glances to Severus' table to what she felt has been a reasonable level. Thankfully it appeared that nothing more than conversation was taking place; not that it mattered, he could invite the whole female population over to his table and she wouldn't care one jolt. It was with that determined thought at the forefront of her mind that she headed to the ladies.

"Hermione," Luna called her name as she returned to their table. "I have someone here who would to meet you."

Luna pulled her over to meet her colleague, a friendly, blonde-haired wizard, with piercing blue eyes. "Hermione, this is Julian, Julian, this is my friend, Hermione." No sooner had the introduction exited her mouth Luna had disappeared in Harry and Ginny's direction.

"Well, that was subtle," Hermione muttered.

"That's Luna."

Hermione glanced up and gave him a wry smile.

"I am pleased to meet you," he offered. "Luna speaks fondly of you and I confess I wanted the opportunity to meet you."

"Oh?"

Julian grinned, "Well, of course, who doesn't want to meet the famous, Hermione Granger."

"Indeed," she replied, wryly; she detested being called famous. "So, Julian, tell me about yourself."

He was from a little place just outside of Oxford, called Denton and had two younger sisters and an older brother. He had moved to London shortly after leaving school, lived a flat in Islington, had never married, though he had been in a long-term relationship which had ended four months ago. His father was a muggle while his mother was a witch, he was distantly related to Cornelius Fudge, through his mother's father, but they hadn't ever met.

As it turned out, Julian was a rather interesting person; he had been in his seventh year at Hogwarts the year that Hermione was sorted, and while she has been in Gryffindor, he had been in Ravenclaw. Hermione was sure he had told her what he did for a living but every time she tried to recall, she had forgotten. They talked a lot about school though skirted over the subject of the war, thankfully. His favourite subject had been Arithmancy, he'd disliked History of Magic and had, unsurprisingly, loathed Potions.

At the mention of potions, Hermione cast a glimpse at Severus' table once again and noted that he was still in conversation with the two women.

Julian must have followed her gaze. "I dare say he's changed a bit."

"Do you think so?" Hermione asked, curious as to his opinion of their former teacher.

"Well, I hear nothing but good things out of the hospital, though I understand he's making up for lost time, if you know what I mean." Julian placed his empty pint glass on the table. "Who would have thought that old Snape would have an eye for the ladies… or indeed, that they would have an eye for him."

Hermione kept silent.

"Still, I understand he is still rather formidable, on occasion."

She laughed, "That, I can agree with, I've seen him in action." They exchanged a knowing look, which hinted that they had both been on the received in of his wrath in recent years.

"Look, I know this might seem a little forward, as we've just met, but would you care to meet for dinner?" Julian asked.

"A date?" It had been quite a while since she had been on a date.

Julian smiled and nodded, "Yes, a date."

Hermione paused and looked up at Julian. Ever analytical she questioned whether she was attracted to him? She supposed he was attractive in a conventional sort of way and it would probably go some way to getting on with her life. Was it wise to go out with Julian when her mind was – reluctantly – preoccupied?

"Hermione?"

"I suppose, we could…" Hermione struggled to articulate herself in the wake of her private thoughts. "Yes, if you like."

Julian gave her an amused look. "Goodness, you're hard on a man's self-esteem."

Embarrassed at what she knew at been a reluctant acceptance, Hermione moved to repair the damage. "It isn't anything to do with you, I would like to go out to dinner with you, it's just that I have only recently gotten out of a… thing." Yes, she thought, a _thing_ was about right.

"A thing?"

"It was complicated."

Julian nodded, still appearing amused at her inept explanation.

Hermione passed the remainder of the evening mingling between friends, ensuring that she made Ron promise to send her tickets to his first game, which she was surprised to find she was very much looking forward to attending. It heartened her to see him so excited and rejuvenated by his change in fortune.

Luna and Neville set tongues wagging amongst the group when they left together. "Well, I am not entirely surprised, are you?" Ginny had whispered in her ear. Hermione had nodded whilst considering exactly the opposite. How had she missed a budding romance between two close friends? Before she could consider the question more deeply her bladder called for her attention, yet again. "If we're going to go soon, I'll just pop to the loo."

It was on her way back, walking through the narrow hallway which lead to the bar, that Hermione was accosted. "Hello, Miss Granger," came a lowered voice from over her shoulder as she felt the loose grip of a hand on her elbow.

The slight inflection of his greeting led her to believe there was some doubt in his mind as to whether she would respond. Hermione looked down the fingers laid over the top of her cardigan; she closed her eyes and swallowed, unsure how to reply. What did he want with her now? Of course, the sensible thing to do would be to rip her arm from his grasp and tell him to go where the sun didn't shine, but when she opened her mouth, the words died on her lips. Instead she replied with a weary, "What do you want, Severus?"

"I see you have been meeting with friends this evening."

Hermione spun around to face him, seeing that his face was partially obscured by a shadow. How very like him, she thought, always hiding himself in one way or another. If he thought she was about fall back into his trap and be used again, he had another thing coming. "Yes, and I see you have been doing to same," she replied, firmly.

"Is that so?" he asked, without pause. "Julian Seabrook was a pitifully inept student, Miss Granger. You could do better."

That was all it took for her to unleash her wrath. "Excuse me?" she asked rhetorically. "Who I see and who I speak to has absolutely nothing to do with you, a fact of which I am sure you cannot be ignorant." Hermione advanced upon him as she continued. "How dare you flaunt your conquests in my face while criticising the company I keep. At least Julian has manners and asked me out, instead of following me home and taking want he wants, as if I am some plaything to be picked up, and put down again, at his whim." On a roll, she poked her finger at his button-clad chest, "I recognise that I am partially to blame for letting it happen, but I won't be manipulated again, so you can save your little act for someone else. Goodbye, Severus."

Unburdened and feeling decidedly pleased with herself, Hermione turned and walked purposefully down the hallway, stopping momentarily to take a deep breath and calm her emotions before she re-joined her friends.

She couldn't help it, Hermione kept one eye on the hallway leading to the loos, waiting to see him emerge. Briefly, she considering throwing herself at Julian just to spite him, but thankfully she thought better of it and came to her senses before any harm was done. Hermione Granger was many things, but she wasn't vengeful.

Knowing it was getting late and eager to put some distance between herself and Severus, Hermione grabbed her umbrella and said goodbye to her remaining friends, with an especially heartfelt embrace reserved for Ron.

"Hermione," called Ginny, just as Hermione was about to leave. "Are you okay?"

"What?"

"You seem a little hurried and I see Snape isn't at his table so, you know, I am putting two and two together and now I am worried about you."

"Everything is fine, Gin, I am just tired and need to head home."

"If you are sure?"

"Hermione smiled, "I am."

Making her way to the apparition point and grateful that it had finally stopped raining, Hermione considered that she really _was_ fine. It would be true to say that Severus's appearance had momentarily startled her; however, being able to tell him the abridged version of how she felt had been liberating. With a renewed spring in her step Hermione put her association with her former teacher firmly in the past, she had finally moved on.

HG

The trouble with any sort of relationship, romantic or otherwise, is that other people are involved and they don't always behave in the manner you anticipate.

"I confess, I was surprised you didn't ask me about my work when last we met." Came an all too familiar voice from over her right shoulder. "You were ever the curious student." He hadn't even tried to disguise his seductive tone.

Hermione momentarily froze and fumbled with her key. What in Merlin's name was he doing standing on the pavement outside of her flat? It had been a little over three weeks since she had been accosted by Severus outside of the loos of the Iron Duke. Three weeks in which she had been repeatedly telling herself that she didn't care about this man, who he saw or what he did. Inviting him into her life those few months ago had definitely been a mistake.

"Can I help you, Severus?" Hermione asked, attempting to sound light and casual. As she turned to face him, she was immediately drawn to the fine indigo coloured lining of his travelling cloak. The vibrancy of colour was stark compared to his usual, black, ensemble.

"It has become apparent to me that we need to talk." He took a few steps towards her but stopped before he reached the bottom step of her porch. "There seems to a misunderstanding between us, which I feel we would do well to resolve."

"A misunderstanding? I think not." she replied evenly, determined not to show any emotion.

Severus took another step in her direction. The motion was nothing other than deliberate and she was certain it had been his intention to meet her at eye level. Hermione was suddenly aware of the fact that she didn't know how to occlude, which in turn made her feel momentarily guilty. To her knowledge he had never used _that_ particular skill on her person.

"Forgive my saying so, but you are mistaken." For all the loaded arrogance in his statement, she noted that he appeared remarkably calm.

There was no arguing with this man, so she turned back to the business of opening the door. Once open she stepped inside and turned to close it; unsurprisingly, he had climbed the small flagstone steps and stood before her, one booted foot in the door, expressionless.

"Perhaps I should have brought a gift?" Severus reached into his cloak and proudly presented her with a twin pack of Jaffa Cakes, rather too smugly for her comfort.

For a moment she thought she might burst out laughing. Was this man so inept with members of the opposite sex that he felt forgiveness could be bought with tea-time treats? What sort of man behaved in this way? It was all rather bizarre, but then she reminded herself that he'd probably not apologised to a single person in his life.

Hermione neither replied nor reached for his offering; he must have recognised her continued reluctance, as he withdrew, removing his foot from the door and taking half a step back.

"Will you not listen to me?" Severus asked. He opened his cloak and slid the box of Jaffa Cakes back inside an interior pocket. "Could we please not have this discussion on your doorstep?"

Desperately hoping she wouldn't come to regret her decision, Hermione stood aside and gestured for him to enter. They didn't exchange words as she followed him up the spiral stairs up to her flat.

"I'll put the kettle on." Hermione said as she unlocked her door and deliberately avoided looking back to see if he had followed her inside. The click of the door followed by the sound of his cloak hitting the back of one of the lounge chairs soon told her that he was present.

Hermione soon made her way to her lounge and found him seated in his usual seat at one end of the sofa. "Just to make you aware, stalking a woman outside of her home and harassing her to gain admittance isn't considered polite or acceptable behaviour," she advised, placing his mug of tea on the coffee table between them. "Not to mention that incident the pub the other week."

Severus glanced up and their eyes locked for a moment before he looked away seemed to slowly recoil back as if begging for the cushions to swallow him up.

"It wasn't my intention to make you feel uncomfortable," he replied after a few moments. "I… apologise."

"Well, are you going to say what you feel I must hear, or not?"

He didn't reply immediately, instead choosing to lift the mug of tea to his lips and take a sip. It was obviously still hot, but he didn't show any signs of discomfort. Instead he took a deep breath and loudly and slowly exhaled through his overly large nostrils. All very dramatic, she thought.

"Before I say anything else which may incriminate me and cast me the villain, I would like you to know that it wasn't ever my intention to hurt you or cause you distress."

The incredulous burst of laughter had left her mouth before she even knew it was about to be released into the room.

Severus, to his credit, appeared unmoved, instead he continued. "I know I have behaved poorly, and I am cognizant that I do not deserve your forgiveness. I know you do not believe it to be true, but I don't have much experience when it comes to this sort of thing."

Hermione took his subsequent pause as an opportunity to respond. "I don't know what sort of 'thing' you seem to think we have, Severus. So far, as I see it, we've had a few nights of pretty great sex and that's about it. You've made no effort to engage with me and quite honestly, after the way you spoke to me the last time you were in my home you should consider yourself very fortunate to be sitting on my sofa at this moment."

Almost as soon as she had stopped speaking, he had set his mug down on its coaster and stood abruptly, stepping around the small table to stand in front of the fireplace.

"That's exactly what I am trying to say," he replied, frustratedly. "I don't know what I am doing! I don't know what this is, but… I haven't ever had what you would call a… relationship."

"What are you trying to tell me? I feel I am missing some vital information – perhaps you should start at the beginning." Hermione knew, she was never going to get a better chance to know the inner workings of this man - she couldn't get this close and fail.

"The beginning," he muttered to himself as he closed his eyes momentarily. "Fine," he took a deep breath. "You seem to be under the impression that I am some sort of lothario who is careless in his relationships and moves from one woman to the next. I will admit to having been interested in some of the women of my acquaintance, but I can't say that any attachment has ever formed."

Hermione shifted in her chair and was about to speak when he continued.

"That _isn't_ because I have been hopping from one bed to the other, it is simply the way it has been. Unfortunately, my life has been of particular interest to the _Daily Prophet_ and I cannot so much as walk out of a building with a woman without it being splashed across the front of that bloody newspaper."

"You expect me to believe that you are a victim of the press?" Hermione asked, incredulously. "You certainly have a lot of female friends." She exhaled loudly and rolled her eyes. "I think you're trying to sell that story to the wrong person, Severus. You're hardly the first war hero to be stalked by Rita Skeeter and her band of roving photographers."

A sneer formed on his face before he seemed to think better of whatever he had been about to say, instead he shook his head. "No, I know I am not, but I do have a regretfully well-known past, no thanks to your bespectacled friend." He frowned and turned to glance out the window at the park below. "I have a colleague, Barnaby, you may have noticed him in the pub with me from time to time – a hit with the ladies if ever I met one. I have appeased him by taking a few of his female friends to dinner after having given consideration an impending solitary future. I made an effort with two or three, but the problem is that my heart wasn't really in it. It is difficult to imagine a future with someone when you have nothing to talk about."

"I saw you once, in Madam Malkin's; you bought a beautiful cloak, the next time I saw that cloak was draped over the shoulders of Felicity Lockwood." Hermione lifted her chin as if to challenge his claims.

Severus cast her a sideways glance as he continued to look out the window. "Ah yes, Miss Lockwood is a very beautiful woman, but I can assure you, there was no future to be had there."

"Yes, I suppose when you can have your pick of society witches, committing to just one must be out of the question," she responded, snidely.

At once he had turned to face her directly, clearly angered. "That was beneath you! Will you please hear me out before you cast me as the darkest of blaggards?"

Hermione nodded guiltily. "Please, let's sit back down."

Severus gave the sofa a suspicious glance but nevertheless made his way back to the seat, collecting his mug from the table.

"I came here tonight to put an end to your assumptions of my private life and to clear up our misunderstanding. Will you let me speak? I will not be interrupted again."

Hermione nodded, feeling abashed at her earlier comment.

"I was surprised to find you working at the Ministry, you had always seemed destined to change lives. I won't say I have followed your career over the last few years; however, when you appeared, offering to the procure class one ingredients necessary for my work, I was intrigued to see how you would fair. You didn't disappoint, did you?" She watched him sip his tea as he took a pause. "You always were desperate to impress me."

Hermione couldn't help but blush and hoped he hadn't noticed.

"We ran in to each other a couple of times after that day, but it wasn't until the we met again at the pub that I watched you a little more closely than I was probably comfortable. I thought at first that you were interested in Barnaby, it certainly wouldn't be the first time he attracted a witch's attention, as I may have mentioned, but mysteriously it seemed you were looking at me.

"I am a curious man by nature and I simply couldn't let the matter remain unresolved, so I followed you. I know I told you at the time that I was, like you, on my way home, but that simply wasn't the case."

"So, you deliberately-"

"Quiet!" Severus interrupted, voice raised. "I am not proud of it, but I will be heard!"

Hermione nodded, chastened, once more.

"I will say now that I didn't imagine for one moment that events would unfold as they did. I had thought we would have our talk in the Floo Hall and go our separate ways; as it happened, that bloody photographer interrupted, you invited me to leave with you and I, innocently I might add, followed.

"Our conversation, as you may remember, was a little heated that evening, but you seemed interested in what I had to say. What you may not remember is removing your jumper on your way to the kitchen. As you lifted it over your head your blouse rode up and I was gifted with a rather enticing view of your midriff. You may think me an old letch, but I will tell you now that there was not an innocent thought to be found in my mind after that moment."

Hermione was visibly shocked and clutched at her chest and watched as he cast a wry smile in her direction.

"I wrestled considerably with my conscience; particularly, as you thought me to be the sort of person who moved to from one bed to another. Perhaps it had been the ale, but as I said, my mind was firmly in the gutter."

She tried to wrap her mind around his revelation. At first being thrilled to hear him confirm that he saw her as a sexual being – that being a novelty in itself – but then curious as to how things would eventually unfold.

"You were so very responsive, Hermione; I cannot articulate what you did to me that night, I was unmanned." He must have sensed she wanted to respond because he held his hand up instantly. "Let me finish, please." In the morning it was with reluctance that I left so early, but I was very busy with my research and deadlines were looming.

"As the day wore on, I found myself at a loss with how to proceed. I wasn't certain whether you would be interested in exploring our… whatever you choose to call it. In all honesty it had happened so quickly, I will admit to being discomforted by it, indeed having that article printed the next day made me more than eager to keep our night together firmly to ourselves.

"With that being said, and as you well know, I couldn't stay away. I had stood in the Tesco Metro around the corner from my office for a full ten minutes contemplating the merits of turning up on your doorstep with those blasted Jaffa Cakes."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh softly.

"You may well laugh, but I felt like a prize dunderhead. I had heard nothing from you to indicate I would be welcome, but the risk had been worth it. I enjoyed our next evening, very much, and I am not only referring to our intimacy."

Hermione found herself hanging on his every word – this wasn't what she had expected at all.

"It had taken me another week, and another ten minutes in the chilled dessert aisle at Tesco before I found myself on your doorstep, clutching a tiramisu. That you were not home was certainly disappointing, it was a stark reminder to me that you had a vibrant social life outside of whatever it was that we had shared.

"When you told me later than you had been at dinner with Mr Weasley, I will reveal to you now, that I was… saddened. After you fell asleep, I had lain awake almost all night until I couldn't stand it any longer. I knew I was woefully out of my depth with you. I was beginning to feel things I hadn't felt in quite some time and I had no idea how to go about making my thoughts known to you, particularly as I had no reason to believe you felt the same."

"Severus, you were in my bed." Hermione stated. How much more of a hint did the man need?

His eyebrow raised slowly. "You have just spent the last several weeks accusing me of sleeping around, how was I to know you weren't also entertaining Mr Weasley?"

How dare he suggest such a thing; affronted, she got up and moved around the table to stand in front of him. "I will have you know that I do not go around haphazardly inviting men into bed. You are very much an exception in that respect." Hermione crossed her arms defensively. "Ron is my friend!"

"Indeed, that is good to know." He cast a cautious smile and met her eyes openly.

"Be that as it may, I was very uncomfortable that morning and attempted to leave before you woke up; unfortunately, I did not succeed, and we find ourselves here."

"Are you finished?"

"Yes."

"You told me that morning that I could never be more to you than a fling."

Severus grimaced and took a deep breath. "I am sorry I said that to you, I was feeling stifled and I panicked."

Hermione moved to sit on the edge of the coffee table; it hadn't been intentional, but their knees were touching.

"I asked you what we were to each other; you didn't say any of these things, instead you walked out on me. I don't understand you at all."

"Because I came to realise that with you, it was everything or nothing. I wasn't ready for that epiphany, Hermione. You were never a casual fling, but at the same time, I have never, in my life, been in any kind of what you may call a functional relationship with a woman… and I have no idea how one goes about such things. I am embarrassed to admit that, particularly at my age.

"Then, of course, I found you with your friends chatting up that dunderhead, Seabrook. I didn't know what to think; if anything, it confirmed my worry that you wouldn't want anything serious with me and that some of the things you had said to me before I had left that morning had not been true."

"What?" Hermione shook her head, unable to believe what she had heard.

"In the end I tried to talk to you, but you were determined to think the worst of me, and so I'm afraid I decided that some distance was probably prudent."

"That doesn't explain what you are doing here, this evening." Hermione knew that asking that question was like opening Pandora's box, but she had to know, this had to end, now.

"I wanted to put to rest any idea you may have of my womanising. Its tiresome at the best of times, but from you, it… hurts. Secondly, I wanted confess my… woefully inept handling of this situation between us and ask for your forgiveness."

There was a silence between them as Hermione considered what she should do with all of this new information. Should she contemplate taking another risk with this man who had seduced her mind and body.

"How can I ever trust you?" she asked, eventually.

The question hung heavily in the air and she noticed his expression was pained. "I don't know," he replied at length. "Selfishly, can I hope that you want us to share a mutual trust?"

Hermione looked into his pleading eyes, yet she found she needed more from him, still.

"Severus, please tell me exactly what it is you want from me."

Slowly he leaned forward and took one of her hands between both if his own, holding on to it tightly. "I want to be with you."

Before he had walked out on her she would have been elated; she closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of her hand being held by him so reverently. "I'm scared," she whispered.

"I will be there for you."

Somehow his reply was what she needed to hear. It wasn't a declaration of undying devotion, but as she had been listening to him, she has realised that coming to her home and making himself vulnerable had been difficult for such a proud man. She couldn't imagine him doing such a thing if he hadn't had strong feelings.

"Can you reassure me that there is no Ronald Weasley or Julian Seabrook, waiting in the shadows?" he asked.

"Are you going to let your insecurities run rampant every time you see me talking to another man? She countered.

Severus ran his thumb over the back of her hand. "That would not be my intention, but in the interests of starting anew, it is a question I felt I must ask you."

Hermione wrestled with her feelings. She had been truthful when she told him she was scared; this decision, whether to move forward with him, could be life changing. It would not always be easy; these past months had already proven him quick to anger, with poor judgement when it came to their relationship. That being said, she had enjoyed spending time with him, even just sitting next to each other and talking. Then, of course, there was their physical chemistry – a heady thought, indeed.

Looking down at his hands, wrapped around her own, sent an inexplicable thrill through her body. If she wanted him, he was hers, all she had to do was to accept him. Hermione did the only thing she could have possibly done in that moment and got up to make another cup of tea.

To her surprise and relief, he didn't follow or comment when she got up and walked into the kitchen - perhaps he sensed that she needed to gather her thoughts. They barely knew each other on a personal level, which was disconcerting, considering how emotionally invested she realised she had become in their continued association. Hermione knew, as she poured boiling water into each mug, that to turn him down would be to break her own heart, but to say yes was to risk that he would break it on her behalf.

HG

The morning sun shone through the open curtains; warming the room, as the open window allowed a light summer breeze to dance through the air. Hermione rolled over and pulled the light cotton sheet up her body and across her stomach. The country may have been experiencing an Indian summer, but her sweat covered skin was feeling the cold after their passionate morning of lovemaking.

"I would rather you didn't do that," Severus grumbled playfully. "How am I to fully appreciate the naked woman lying next to me, if she is covered by such an expanse of material?"

Hermione giggled. It had been five weeks since she had agreed to be with Severus, and although it was all very new and exciting, she hadn't felt a single moment of regret. Well, that wasn't quite true, there had been that argument over whether Jaffa Cakes were, in fact, a cake or a biscuit. A quick internet search had proved her correct; but of course, there was always going to be a moment of doubt when she thought about spending – possibly the rest of her life – with a man who insisted a Jaffa Cake was a biscuit.

As Severus rolled to grasp his wand from the bedside table, Hermione admired the expanse of his back. Unable to help herself she ran her hand up the smooth skin to his shoulder, pulling him around to face her and languorously kissing his lips. Hermione couldn't get enough; he had been a wonder to her, looking back, how had she managed without him, in those uncertain days at the very beginning.

"You will be the death of me," he whispered, before casting a charm to open the other side of the window.

Severus placed his wand back on the table and turned so they were facing one another. "And what a very pleasant death it will be." He stroked her cheek. "To die in the arms of the woman I love."

Hearing him say those words for the first time was suddenly overwhelming and she couldn't stop the little gasp that escaped.

"Have I said the wrong thing?" he asked, cautiously.

Hermione held his hand to her cheek. "No! No, Severus. It's just that to hear you say those words to me aloud, its… overwhelming. I… I love you too. I just didn't want to be the first to say it."

"Well, I am pleased we have that little matter out in the open." He kissed her forehead and rolled out of bed. "Now, I'll put the kettle on and get some bacon on for some sandwiches.

Hermione watched as her naked lover retreated out to the kitchen and giggled, wondering when he would realise that cooking bacon dressed as nature intended, was probably not wise.

It wouldn't have come as a surprise had he told her that he needed a few minutes to gather this thoughts. Hermione wondered how long he had been waiting to tell her how he felt; of course, she would give him that space - well, at least the time it took for him to make two cups of tea and two bacon sandwiches.

She glanced at the clock and saw it was almost midday. Deciding it would be best to get up before the afternoon began, she rolled out of bed and walked over to the window, pulling closed the pane that Severus had recently opened. The sun radiated from its place in the pale blue sky, it was going to be another beautifully warm autumn day.

 _FIN_


End file.
